


The Devil's Golf Course

by HeatedHeadwear (SplickedyHat)



Category: Homestuck
Genre: College AU, Emotional Manipulation, F/F, F/M, Fantasy, Gen, Humanstuck, Implied/Referenced Abuse, Implied/Referenced Suicide, M/M, Slurs
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-02-11
Updated: 2015-02-22
Packaged: 2018-03-11 15:19:32
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 53,689
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3330671
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SplickedyHat/pseuds/HeatedHeadwear
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Twelve college kids find themselves inexorably drawn together by a destiny larger than any of them, which presents itself in the form of some very peculiar horoscopes.  Also features in some capacity: romantic and platonic relationship tension, spiritual trials, circumstantial simultaneity, Dungeons and Dragons, skeletons, a somewhat significant goat, and a golf course owned by the Devil.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Orientation

**Author's Note:**

> I'd like to thank my sisters Splickedy and Slightly for giving this a couple critical read-throughs (as well as helping me plan this whole story in the first place!) and Tumblr user Kraethi for his patience and attention to detail in helping me write the D&D scenes! Also, whoever helped me with the rugby parts--I swear I'll find their url as soon as possible!  
> Art of the humanstuck headcanons used in this story: http://toastyhat.tumblr.com/post/92263996739/got-bored-and-colored-my-humanstucks-uff-okay-for

**Prologue Alpha**

“Why aren’t you killing us?”

Things are looking really bad.  It’s the kind of question you  _ask_  when things are looking really bad.  Dirk Strider would be the first to admit that, albeit with the clarification that it’s also the kind of question you ask when your enemy is the kind of overly-verbose douche who would actually answer in detail.

The four young humans and Scratch face each other on the wild grass of an open field, trees rustling in the distance.  The Devil is at ease, his posture perfect, his suit immaculate; only two of the humans are still on their feet, and all of them are bleeding copiously.

The man in white smiles, his face gleaming coldly--almost as though it isn’t flesh at all.  “I can’t deny your skill in capturing me...I would never have expected the interference of Master English’s... _friends._ But in half a century, for a single night, the bonds holding me here will be sufficiently weakened for my escape.  And with the consumption of your souls four such talented magic users as yourselves, I will be guaranteed my freedom.”

“You’re gonna eat our souls?” asks Roxy, sounding half terrified, half indignant.

Dirk shakes his head, eyes still fixed on the man in white.  “No.  No, that’s bullshit.  We’ve got you caught and we’re going to take you down, Old Scratch.  Don’t listen to him, guys, remember, the Devil lies.”

“On the contrary, Master Strider, I never  _lie_.  Sometimes I joke, but only sometimes.  I needn’t do either to earn your cooperation.”

“Dirk!” That’s Jane, her voice a mix of panic and accusation.  “Do you have a contingency plan for this?”

“I’d rather like...an answer to the same question, old boy,” grunts Jake, trying and failing to lift himself from Jane’s lap.  She pulls him firmly back down, making desperate  _sshhh_ noises and pushing down hard on the bundle of red-soaked cloth covering his stomach.

“...A deal,” Dirk murmurs.

“A deal?”Roxy almost glances away from the sight of her rifle, her voice deeply appalled.  “A deal with the  _Devil_?  Honey, you have got to be messing with us, did they teach you that was okay where you learned demon-hunting?  That’s a big laugh!”

“I’m telling you, I’ll make it work.  Let me try.  He may be possessed but he’s only a puppet.  And I’m a goddamn good puppeteer.”

“Dirk, no!”says Jane, but the authority in her voice falters as a bubble of blood appears at the corner of Jake’s mouth.

When Dirk speaks again, every syllable seems to creak with ice.  “Jake can’t survive a valiant last stand, let alone another minute.  This is our last chance.  Now are you in or not, Jane?”

“I…”Jane glances at Jake, who’s struggling to breathe.  “I…alright, but you had better know what you’re doing!”

“Rox?”The word is a strange mix of demand and plea.  Scratch waits with patient smugness.

“Fuck it,” mutters Roxy, glancing back at the other two.  “Just do it, Dirk, but we better make it out of this or I’m comin’ after you.”

“Noted,” says Dirk, and there’s the faintest upturn of a smile in his voice.  Then he looks straight at Scratch and says, “You said fifty years, so you can’t eat us now, can you?  You want us refrigerated for later.”

“That is an accurate, if crude summary,” says the devil-man smoothly.  “What are you proposing?”

“The devil likes to play games,” says Dirk, as though confirming a rumor.  Scratch nods his head ever so slightly.  “Then I want to make a deal.  You can’t eat our souls if we’re dead, can you?”

Behind him, Jane gasps.  Roxy makes a growling noise, narrowing her eyes.  Jake’s breath comes a little faster.

“...No,” says Scratch, eventually.  “Are you proposing to kill yourself and your companions before I can put you in stasis?  I do not think you--”

“A spell like that takes time to set up!  Time is dead kids, Scratch, and with the fate of billions at stake?   _Try me.”_

There’s silence for a moment.  The other three humans give each other dark, covert glances.  Dirk is right; there’s too much to lose.  And Dirk doesn’t bluff.

“...Very well,” says Scratch with delicate slowness.  He flexes one extended hand, white fingers stiff, motioning for Dirk to continue.

“Allow a team of rescuers to come for us.  Orchestrate a game possible for a group of mortal rescuers to win, without interfering in their actions.  Chinese checkers, a spiritual obstacle course, whatever suits you.”

“That certainly is a lot of favors you are asking from my end of the bargain,” says Scratch.  “If they fail to pass my tests, I hope you have some appropriate recompense in mind.”

“I’m already refraining from...making us unavailable to you.I think that’s pretty fucking magnanimous.  And if you win, then you can eat our souls and use the power to break out.  Then you get the whole goddamn world, what more do you want?  But  _only_  if we haven’t been released within those fifty years, got it?”

“Dirk, god damn it, you can’t bet us on a game  _again_ ,” hisses Jane.

“One last time,” says Dirk, his lips barely moving.  “The devil only deals in games.  It’s our only chance.”

“It is true,” says Scratch, his voice cloyingly smug.  “Are there any other loopholes you would attempt to close before sealing the deal?  I would hurry if I were you…either way, as you say, time is dead children, and I might not need all four of you…”

“You will make sure that the players arrive here,” says Dirk.  “You will arrange it all.”

“I will  _arrange_  it only once,” says Scratch, a cold counter.  “Manipulating the actions of humans outside my prison is...draining.  It will be difficult enough establishing a respectable facade for my prison.”

“Is that really necessary?   _Three times_ ,” Dirk tries, but it’s a weak bluff.

“Oh, I am nothing if not a gentleman.   _Once_.”

“Dirk, Jake’s barely breathing!”

“Done!” Dirk yells, and there’s a flash of green light.  The ground collapses beneath the four kids and chains draw them into the darkness below.  Five minutes later, the spell is complete; the long rest, assured; their wounds, in the process of mending.

And there they stay, not quite sleeping, not quite waking, the voices of their minds reaching eachother through the void where their dreams might otherwise have been.

****

**Ancestral Prologue**

There were so many loopholes in the Strider boy’s deal that it’s almost laughable.  Doc Scratch feels his skull buzzing with the unearthly laughter of its occupant, and allows a smile of his own to creep across his face.

“You are wondering what you will be asked to do,” he says.

_Create apprehension._

“I may tell you, although of course I can only say so much.”

_Control them._

“First, tell me...who is the leader among you?”

_Sow discontent._

He looks from one to the next, speaking to them in order of birth sign.  First, the tall, angular black woman, her posture perfect, the angle of her jaw haughty, a mass of braids bound in gold at the base of her skull.

“Will it be you?  The immaculate CEO, commander in chief of hundreds?  Surely you thought before you came here that they would be your followers in this endeavor, having become accustomed to such power.”

A broad, regal Greek man with black hair slicked back from his forehead, one hand resting conspicuously on the strap of a rifle slung over one shoulder.

“You would follow the lead of only one here, and consider the rest beneath you.  A born  _second-in-command_.”

Then the narrow-faced white man with the lined cheeks and icy blue eyes, sizing up his companions with quick, cursory glares.

“Or you, something of a...spiritual leader in your town, are you not?  I know you must feel you hold a sort of natural superiority over certain members of this group.”

Another white man, broad and heavyset, with straight black hair spilling over his back and shoulders, eyes shadowed under his tinted glasses.

“You hardly have even the inkling of autonomy...always seeking a voice to bow to, authority to bend to.  Surely not  _you_.”

A lean, watchful Chinese woman in a battered leather coat and bright red boots, one gloved hand gripping a butterfly knife.

“Accustomed to independence as you are, will you accept anyone’s rein?  And yet commanding them is the least of your concerns.  A troublemaker, no doubt.”

A short, sharp-boned Israeli woman in a red suit, grinning wide and without humor, her teeth a shard of white in the green dimness.

“Another loner!  Sure to clash with your like-minded comrade.  Here conducting your own investigation, no doubt.  Unused to having an overseer.”

An elegant Iranian lady with graying hairs and wrinkles at the corners of her eyes, dressed in green stripes.

“The mother...will you care for all the others?  Even the ones who would threaten your son?  No...your care would not unify such an unruly band, but divide it.”

A young Korean woman with masses of dark hair, all curves and softness save for the hard look in her round eyes.

“You would rather watch and listen, play the sycophant to your lover and respect his every wish...would you not?  Oh, in the past you thought yourself the wild rebel, but by now it can be nothing but a facade.”

A slim black man with gentle eyes in a soft red hand-knit sweater, one hand squeezing the dark-haired girl’s shoulder warningly.

“You could step up...try to claim leadership...but would you be respected, do you think?  By this company?  That would be unrealistic optimism, I think.”

An Indian man with high cheekbones and dark, deep-set eyes glaring from behind oval glasses, his figure all corners and lines.

“Your anger makes you a liability; dangerous, in need of control.  But you would never accept it, perhaps even from someone you truly respect.”

A rangy Native American man, muscular arms folded across his broad chest, strands of the red-dyed streaks in his hair falling over his eyes.

“And you would lead, but only those you truly trusted and respected.  How many in this room could claim that quality?  Few indeed…”

He spares no comment for the short, hard-faced filipina woman at the end of the line--only a knowing, electric-green stare while she returns a flat glare.

“Choose quickly,” says Scratch, enjoying the rustle of mutters and sharing of hard looks.  “It’s not a requirement but I would appreciate an answer before we begin.  In the interests of knowing whether you can...work in tandem.”

“I’ll do it,” says a voice, soft but more readily noticeable for it.  Scratch, who had been expecting at least some debate, swivels his head to stare at the man in the red sweater.  In fact all eyes are on him, their expression spanning a range of anger, resignation, and confusion in varying degrees.

“Excuse me?” says Scratch slowly, narrowing his eyes.  “Am I to assume you have no intention of asking the rest of your companions for their opinions?”

“You may assume whatever you like,” says the man, quietly but with a slight edge to his voice that indicates nascent impatience.  “I don’t believe the question of leadership should be an issue, but I’m speaking up now to appease whatever whim led you to take this line of questioning.”

“So be it,” says Scratch, his smile returning.  This should be sufficient; enough discord sown.  He looks forward to the results.

****

**Prologue Beta**

The window by the table is open, and there’s an unseasonably cool breeze making the pink-embroidered tablecloth ripple.  A small black cat bats idly at the fluttering cloth.  The room’s four occupants share nervous glances, waiting for the last of them to finish sorting out his cards.  

Eventually, the black-haired boy clears his throat and places a tentative bid.  “Fifteen.”

All eyes turn to the blonde girl, who surveys her hand with a pensive majesty in her tilted lavender eyes and then says, “Thirty.”

“I give up,” says the boy next to her.  “John, I’m done, I’m sorry but this is just too fucking much, she’s obviously cheating.”

“That is an unwarranted accusation, David,” says the girl, mock-injured.  “Two double pinochles in one game do not a cheater make.  Accept your fate.”

“One: my name ain’t David, it’s Dave.  And two: I thought we were gonna talk about actual serious magical shit, not play peenoakly until our boredom glands herniate.”

“Ew, Dave!” says the other girl, laughing.

“I thought  _Pinochle_  would be a good way to ease into more important affairs,” says the blonde girl, raising an eyebrow.  “Don’t you think a meeting of friends should involve at least  _some_ degree of cordial smalltalk and gameplay?”

“Not if it involves me and John losing to you guys by a gap of five thousand,” Dave grumbles, and the black-haired boy, John, grimaces in a “well he has a point” kind of way.  

“I think Dave is kind of right, Rose!” pipes up the other girl, pushing her glasses up her long, freckled brown nose.  “This was supposed to be really important, wasn’t it?”

“Thanks, Jade,” says Dave.

“Oh, no problem!  It  _was_ getting boring, really, with you guys losing by so much.”

Rose laughs.  Dave’s mouth slides a little to one side.  “…Thanks, Jade.”

“Yeah, thanks,  _Jade_ ,” says John, stiffening his face in an exaggeration of Dave’s deadpan.  Jade sticks out her tongue at them.

“I thought it was time for actual serious magical shit,” says Rose reproachfully, and her friends settle back in their chairs with varying degrees of disgruntlement.

Dave is the first to speak.  “I’m still not cool with it.”

Rose’s face settles into an expression that clearly says  _here we go again_.  Jade sighs.  John says, “We  _know_ , man, it sucks!  But come on!”

A tiny wrinkle appears between the dark lenses of Dave’s sunglasses.  “Come on nothing!  I’m just not cool with tricking twelve kids we don’t even  _know_  into doing our dirty work for us.”

“We won’t be tricking them,” Rose says coolly.  “A part of the requirements is that they must act of their own free will.  I could hardly curse them into compliance…though I won’t say I didn’t consider it at the onset.  The fate of the world is at stake, after all.”

“You are so messed up,” mutters Dave.  “Are you even sure it has to be the zodiac people?  You and me and Jade could just change our official birth records or some shit.  Fate of the world, right?”

“I don’t think magical demonic barriers check  _birth records_ before allowing entrance,” Rose tells him.  Her voice is crisp but one corner of her mouth is twitching.  “The long and the short of it is that everything has to happen exactly as it did last time, and we can’t be seen to interfere.”

“But if we can’t ‘interfere’,” says Dave, sketching probably ironic air quotes around the word with long, bony fingers, “how are we supposed to make it happen?”

“I have my means,” Rose replies, and John rolls his eyes.  Not missing the subtle motion, she frowns at him.  “You have something to add, John?”

“Yeah, I think you should stop being so mysterious all the time and just tell us how you’re making this happen!  We’re all in this together, you know?  To get your Mom and Dave’s Bro and my Nanna and Jade’s Grandpa out of where he’s keeping them?  Even if it wasn’t about all our relatives, I’d still want to know because you’re my friend.”

He smiles at her, bright and buck-toothed, while Jade nods.  Dave looks torn between agreement and embarrassment at John’s earnest petition.  Rose breathes out through her nose and then returns the smile, a little ruefully.

“…You’re right, I suppose.  I thought it might be safer if I acted alone, but you deserve to know.  Let me tell you how this ought to go down…”

“Rosey!” calls a voice from the kitchen, startling the group at the table, “what are you kids talking about in there?”

Now it’s Rose’s turn to roll her eyes.  “Freeing you and your friends from the clutches of the devil, Mom!” she calls back.  “You can let us handle it!”

The woman in the kitchen laughs.  “Oh wow, is that happening now?  Well, good luck!”

“Go a _way_ ,” says Rose in an impatient sing-song, and then turns her attention back to the matter at hand, looking only slightly ruffled.  “As I was going to say before I was…interrupted, I’ve found a very simple and effective way to connect with the group in question, based on the qualifications assigned to them—that is to say, the fact that they must represent the signs of the Zodiac.”

“But…if that means what I think it does…how can you be sure they’ll notice?” asks Jade, forehead wrinkling.

“Paradoxical serendipity,” says Rose.  “Also, a close friend on the staff of the college newspaper.  Would you like me to tell you about the rest of it?”

 

**Chapter One**

Karkat Vantas spends his first night at Altruss Community College constantly in and out of the bathroom.  He isn’t drunk or sick, unlike half the rowdy freshman outside his window, and he’s not trying to avoid his new roommate...well, not really.

Karkat Vantas is just homesick as fuck, and he’s spent hours on and off crying silent, furious tears next to the toilet.  Moving from Little Chile in San Fran, California to an Ohio university will do that to you, and none of the four calls he’s made to his parents has helped much.  Classes, he thinks, staring fixedly at the stained tile wall opposite him, can’t start soon enough.

When he emerges cautiously into the room itself, it’s almost one in the morning but his roommate is still up.  He arrived while Karkat was in the bathroom and this is the first time they’ve actually come face-to-face...if that’s the accurate term for it when one party is sprawled upside-down on a beanbag chair.  

He’s big but unnaturally skinny, with a mass of dark hair sprawling around his head like a curly halo and his feet are bouncing idly against the wall.  This must have been going on for a little while at least, because his baggy sweatpants have fallen down around his knees, revealing a pair of sharp, hairy shins. When he catches Karkat staring at him he grins lazily back, waving.  Karkat, alarmed and suddenly overly-conscious of his red, swollen nose and eyes, looks away quickly and hurries towards the bed where he deposited his own belongings earlier.

“Bro,” says his roommate in the mellow tones of the thoroughly stoned, “Your eyes be red as mother _fuuuuuuuuck_!”  His voice--a thick Southern drawl--pops up into a much higher register on the last word, his own eyes becoming blissed-out slits.  Karkat stares and wonders whether he can apply for a transfer to a different dorm.  Fuck knows he’s not studying in here while this bony mess is puffing away at a joint in one corner.

“You been smokin’ in there?” asks the roommate, literally rolling off of his beanbag chair and in the direction of Karkat’s bed.  Karkat picks his feet up off the floor slowly, eyes narrowing as the boy comes to a stop face-up a couple feet from him.

“You can’t just roll around on the floor to get places,” he says, “use your goddamn feet, why don’t you?  And no, I wasn’t…smoking.”

He’s afraid for a second that the boy will ask him what he  _was_ doing, but instead he gets a strange, crooked shrug—one shoulder at a time—and a sympathetic look.  “That is a damn motherfuckin’ shame, roomie.  You can have some of mine any time, okay?”

“No, not okay,” says Karkat, whose eyes are prickling again for no reason.  “Tell you what, why don’t we actually learn each other’s names before we start offering each other weed?  I’m Karkat Vantas.”

“Bro, you are  _all_ white…”

“I know!” Karkat snaps, feeling the flush starting.  He’s going to be full-on blotchy red in no time and then his stupid white eyebrows are going to be even more obvious and fuck _dammit_ he’s already had to deal with the misguidedly affectionate  _gringo_ nickname from aunts and uncles all his life, and the eye problems, and having to explain over and over again what albinism  _is_ and  _isn’t_ —

“Miraculous as fuck is what you are,” says the boy, staring at him with wide, dark bloodshot eyes.  “I’m Gamzee.  Makara, I mean.”

“What?”

“Gamzee Makara,” says Gamzee happily.  “The one and only!”

Karkat rolls his eyes and starts trying to think of an excuse to leave the room, but before he can compose it he sees… _something_ moving underneath the patchwork quilt on Gamzee’s bed.  He opens his mouth, shuts it, then says croakily, “G…Ganzee—”

“It’s Gamzee, bro.”

“Whatever, stoner douche—do you have—do you have a— _PET OH GOD IT’S JUMPING WHAT IS IT_ —”

The bundle of coarse, dark fur falls off of Gamzee’s bed from under the covers and struggles for a moment with its legs in the air.  Karkat sees cloven hooves and then, as it manages to flip itself over, the animal’s long face and horns.

“Gamzee,” he says again, “pets are not fucking  _allowed_.”

“Aw, no, see, that’s not how it is at all!  He’s just like…a third roommate!”

“It’s a  _goat_ ,” says Karkat hoarsely.  “Did you grow up in a barn?  Did you literally grow up in a barn?”

“Aw hell no,” says Gamzee, with an irritating look of pity on his thin face.  “You don’t have to grow up in a barn to have a goat, bro.”

 _You do if you’re dumb enough to bring it to fucking_ college _,_ Karkat thinks, but he doesn’t say it.  Sarcasm seems beyond his roommate’s grasp at the moment.  Instead he says, “The RA is probably going to tell you to get rid of it by tomorrow.  Don’t say I didn’t warn you.”

Gamzee laughs, his voice cracking awkwardly so that it goes all high-pitched again.  “No no no, brother, I have all and  _talked_ to that motherfucker, bro, he’s chill as all fuck.”

“Stop saying  _all_.”

Gamzee laughs again and hugs his goat and Karkat decides to try just going to sleep instead of leaving the room.  He doesn’t have anywhere else to stay anyway.  If he’s lucky, Gamzee will just stop talking, and maybe even existing.  

Karkat swallows a new lump in his throat and rolls over in bed.  

\--

Terezi Pyrope spends her first night at Altruss Comm seeking out her people.  She knows who they are, so it’s just a matter of finding them.  The Club Fair is tomorrow but Terezi is nothing if not an over-achiever.  She has never been one for dropping small hints and trading subtle questions until an understanding is reached that she and her prospective friend like the same things.  

In short, Terezi Pyrope is not embarrassed by her interests.  Which is why, once the freshman have been dispersed to mingle, she walks right up to the sour, black-clothed girl and says quite plainly, “You said you were in a Dungeons and Dragons club?”

The other girl, who has been broadcasting  _go away don’t talk to me_ this whole time, shifts slightly.  Terezi can’t see well enough to read subtle expressions anymore, but body language has always been one of her specialties, and she’s at least managed to surprise her new acquaintance.

“Why are you asking, goody-two-shoes?” says the girl in black, who is quickly rising to the vaulted position of  _least trusting person I have ever met in my life_.  Terezi hasn’t been called “goody two-shoes” since middle school.  Remarkable.

“Because I’m looking for a good D&D group and you mentioned it when you were introducing yourself,” she says cheerfully, aiming her eyes slightly over the girl’s right shoulder in a way that tends to give people the uncomfortable feeling that they should move over a step to meet her gaze.

“ _You_?  Little Miss Legally Blind Blond?”

“Ah, you were listening when I introduced myself earlier!  That saves me a little trouble.  Yes,  _me_.  And I was listening too.  You said that you are a sophomore, which means that unlike the freshman nerds I’ve scouted out today, you might have a well-established group...possibly one that hasn’t made the change to Fifth Edition?”

“Okay, but let’s ask ourselves…would I let  _you_  in if I did?”

“That depends,” says Terezi, “on how intimidated you felt by my skill and intensity.  For future reference, what is your name?”

“Vriska Serket,” says the girl, and flips her mass of black-and-blue hair over one shoulder.  “If you can find Jack Hall at six in the afternoon tomorrow, we’ll see how  _intimidating_ you are.”

Terezi grins like a shark.  

“I look forward to it!”

\--

In the little newspaper office of the United Altruss Community-State College, Kanaya Maryam sighs and studies her page of tomorrow’s publication.  Though the State half of the joint campus seems set on keeping itself distinguished from its cheaper, less prestigious neighbor, still there is one paper for both.  It’s called  _The Illuminator_ , which Kanaya thinks is a grossly misleading title given the stance most of its writers take towards the difference between embellishment and sensationalism.

But she just writes one rarely-perused page and sometimes helps the graphic design team so for now there’s nothing to be done.  Except…

Kanaya reaches under her desk to pull out a large, glossy black object.  It’s a gift from a friend, not something she ever thought she’d use—although said friend assured her she would use it “all the time”.

Well, she has to admit that in this past month, that has proved to be unexpectedly accurate.

She glances a little over either shoulder, then ducks her head down to ask, “…Is this it, then?  Is it going to start now?”

She shakes the object vigorously and peers expectantly at it.  A couple of seconds later, she sighs and sits back.  

“Alright, then…  Let’s talk about tomorrow.”

\--

Karkat isn’t what anyone would call sociable but in the interest of avoiding Gamzee (and Gamzee’s goat), he spends most of the next morning before orientation meeting his neighbors.  Mostly this consists of brusque smalltalk, abruptly asking what their favorite movie is, and then offering them a detailed critique of whatever movie that is.  Eventually, most of them seem to remember that they have to get ready for Orientation, whatever that entails, and Karkat, disgusted by their apathy, moves on to the next room.

The last one he comes to is 222, right across from his.  A quick sniff near the opposing door tells him Gamzee is still inside, so he might as well spend some time talking to the lucky Mr. 222.  The door is already ajar, so the obvious choice is simply to push it open and start making conversation.

Even with his contacts in, Karkat’s skills of observation are not fantastic, but one thing becomes obvious within the first five seconds of entering the room: one side is decorated predominantly in red, the other in blue.  It’s not uncommon for college students to decorate in the school colors, but since Altruss Comm’s colors are yellow and black, that seems like a poor explanation.  

There are two beds but only one occupant, tapping busily away on a laptop in a corner of the blue side.   They’re wearing all black, tight on a thin, bony frame, and one side of their head is shaved while the other is an overgrown mass of black hair.  Karkat leans forward a little to get a better look and his weight makes the floor beneath him groan; suddenly he’s looking right into a thin brown face and flashing oval glasses.  The eyes beneath are thickly but not carelessly outlined in black.

“The hell do you want?” asks the boy, his voice surprisingly deep for his slenderness.

“Wow, rude,” Karkat retorts, taking refuge in audacity.  “Just dropping in to say hi, no need to flip your fucking lid.  You and your roommate have some kind of decorating conflict that coincidentally made your room into the most eyefucking shithole possible?”

“Zero to douchebag in two seconds,” snaps the guy, rolling his eyes.  “Great first impression there, especially since I don’t  _have_ a roommate.”

“So you just keep both beds made and both desks stocked for kicks?  What do you do, use one side of the room when you’re feeling angry and one when you’re feeling sad?”

“Fuck you!”

Karkat starts to say something, needling further about the roommate, but something in the other guy’s voice kicks him in the brain and instead he says, “What, seriously?”

“Fuck off.”

“Great first impression,” Karkat grumbles, and to his surprise the guy gives him a lopsided grin.  He has gappy teeth and black, shiny snake-bite piercings.

“I’m Sollux Captor,” he says.  “And you’re the shouty white kid across the hall.”

“Albino,” says Karkat automatically, flushing.  “My family’s from Chile.”

“Oh, no, fuck, I didn’t even it like, I mean, I meant like, white- _colored_ , shit, sorry—”

“Jesus, not a big deal!” says Karkat, raising his eyebrows.  “Either way I’ve already heard it about a thousand times.  My name’s Karkat Vantas, alright, introductions done.  Don’t have a fucking fit.”

Sollux glares and snorts a kind of half-laugh.  “Have you been giving everyone this stellar treatment?”

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

“It means you’re the rudest little sonofabitch I’ve met since I came to this school and I’m laughing just imagining you barging into everyone’s rooms being aggressively friendly at them.  It’s really terrible, I feel embarrassed just thinking about it.”

“Right, because you’re the model of good fucking manners!” says Karkat, stung.  “You’re the first person who’s told me to  _fuck off_ , what do you think of that?”

“I think it’s better than small-talk and I’m just giving as good as I get!  How do you feel about  _that_?”

They pause for a moment, glaring at each other, and then Karkat says, “Shit, it  _is_ better than small-talk.”

“Yeah,” says Sollux, scratching the shaved side of his head absently.  “Huh.”

“You got any friends on campus?”

“Other than you, you mean?”  Another gappy half-smile.

“Please, like you can just declare that straight away!  God, you sound like my roommate…”

“The pothead?”

“Got it in one.  He was calling me ‘best friend’ practically before he even knew my name.  We can just be hate-friends for now, you’re on a trial run.”

“Oh,  _nice_.  You have my eternal gratitude for giving me the honor of a  _trial run_  for your friendship!  Let me kiss your hand or something, I have to show my appreciation.”

“Offer rescinded, dumbass.”

“Thank god.”

“You’re welcome.”

“…Seriously though, if you want to hang out and hate something else with me for a while sometime that could be cool.  There are plenty of dumb movies we could make fun of, like--“

Karkat senses the impending mention of what will probably be a favorite film of his, and interrupts with, “Are you planning on going to the Club Fair later?”

“I went last year,” says Sollux after a moment, shrugging.  “Pretty unimpressive, honestly.  Just my opinion, though.  I mean, some of it wasn’t bad, so you might find something you’re interested in there.  No actually, you know what, it was just lame.”

Karkat waves a dismissive hand.  “Doesn’t matter, we can just walk around making fun of people’s religions and shit.”

Sollux gives him a couple seconds’ impassive stare and then his face cracks into a crooked grin.  “Sounds fun, ehehehe!”

\--

As it turns out, none of the religious groups are particularly pleased to have a couple of assholes mocking their posterboards, slogans, and/or philosophies.   When that gets old, they move on to other clubs.  Karkat becomes increasingly impressed by Sollux’s ability to make fun of literally any group, even minority organizations he would have qualified for.  Around the time the Bharatnatyam Dance Club starts sending them dirty looks, Karkat steers his new hate-friend away from their table.

They’ve just made their way through all the athletics groups and passed into the Alternate Interests area when Karkat nudges Sollux and says, “Hey, check out that girl over there.”

Sollux scowls.  “All you had to say when I pointed out those girls in the Glee Club was  _meh_.  And you didn’t even  _look_  at the Men’s Track Team and their hot asses.”

“I said  _meh_ because I don’t  _care_ about anyone’s ass, I meant check out what this crazy chick is doing! _”_

Sollux turns grudgingly.  The girl in question is small, pointy, white, and vibrantly blonde.  Where Karkat’s hair is practically colorless, hers is corn-yellow.  She’s carrying a white cane with bright red stripes, which she whips about as she talks, occasionally hitting the ankles of passing students.  She seems to be explaining to a group of disgruntled-looking roleplayers behind the Dungeons and Dragons Club table how they’re not doing it right.

Karkat has never seen anyone be so cheerfully antagonistic.  Nor has he ever had so much difficulty understanding a debate.

“...which is why I personally prefer 3.5e!”

“But 5e is objectively better, that’s what I’m trying to say!  It’s so much simpler!”

“And  _all_ I’m trying to do is earn a concession on your part concerning the positive aspects of 3.5e!  While it is certainly complex, the full array of options and customization contribute to a  _much_ richer narrative, wouldn’t you say?  In 5e, even the ease with which you can choose characters means they’re less customizable!”

“No, that’s  _not_ what you were arguing for!  You were trying to tell us which version we should be using and--”

“Now, I think you’re remembering that rather poorly!  What I wanted to know was  _why_ you were using 5e rather than 3.5e, and you assumed that meant I disapproved of your choice!  You’re reasoning with your emotions.  But why don’t you talk to your two new guests instead for a while?  We can return to this discussion later.”

It takes Karkat a moment to realize she’s referring to him and Sollux, but once it’s clicked he shakes his head emphatically at the disgruntled boy behind the table.

“No, we sure as fuck are not interested, you can keep going with...whatever that was.”

“They would rather not,” says the blonde girl--accurately, as far as Karkat can tell.  She whips the cane up and moves the tip in neat little circles, first in front of Karkat and then Sollux.  “Are either of you gentlemen interested in debating the finer points of different editions of Dungeons and Dragons?  No?  Well, it was worth asking.  Why don’t you walk with me?”

“And why would we do that?” asks Sollux, narrowing his dark-lined eyes at the girl.

She grins.  “Drubbing shins with the cane is fun, but sometimes it’s nice to have an escort for insurance.  Also, groups of three take up obnoxious amounts of room on a sidewalk and I enjoy causing minor inconveniences to other people.”

“I can tell,” says Sollux, but with a flash of gappy teeth that indicates it might be a shared enjoyment.

“Terezi Pyrope,” says the girl, extending a hand to them and giving them both a painfully firm shake.  “Shall we walk?  I think the Pathfinder-hater behind me must be sending quite the dirty look in my direction by now.”

Karkat checks, not bothering to keep the glance surreptitious.  “...That’s accurate.  Fine, let’s go.”

They fall into step on either side of her, and there is indeed something oddly satisfying about watching people move out of the way of their little trio, Terezi leading slightly so that they make an arrowhead of obnoxiously critical assholes.

By the time they emerge from the cluster of club tables at the opposite end of the courtyard, they’re all rather redder and sweatier than when they started, and, in their way, apparently happier.  Introductions have been traded; ridicule has been shared.  Karkat, for his part, feels much less lonely than he did last night.  

The south side of the courtyard is marked by a modest bronze statue of the twin Altruss colleges’ founder--William V. Mayer.  He was a short, stout man, depicted with a sash across his rotund belly and both hands gripping his lapels.  There’s one more table set up at the foot of his plinth, with one simple sign taped to it, reading “ _CAN TOWN--donate food to the homeless”_.  On the pavement around it, the donated cans have been stacked and arranged into a miniature city, complete with chalked-in roads.

“Almost makes me wish I’d brought something,” Karkat remarks, watching a couple of girls start unpacking canned soup from a grocery bag.

“They’ll be here tomorrow,” says Sollux, motioning them over to a nearby patch of lawn.  “It’s a tradition.”

As they settle down on the grass, Terezi turns a remarkably piercing gaze on them and says,  “So...have you two found any clubs you’re interested in joining?”

“No, just a lot of really mockable ones,” says Sollux, grinning.  Karkat realizes the corner of his mouth is twitching as well, and shuts down the impulse.  There’s no denying that her somewhat bloodthirsty smile is infectious, though.

“I have to say, I’ve had much the same experience.  Fortunately, though, I’ve found an unofficial group that is willing to give me a…trial tonight.”

“Edgy,” grunts Sollux, and she does a kind of giggle-snort thing that Karkat tells himself is  _not_ weirdly endearing.

“Have you had anything to eat yet?” he asks, not quite knowing why he’s asking.  “They had hotdogs over there but all we did was make fun of them for like five minutes and then the caterers wouldn’t give us any.”

“Hm!”  She pulls out her phone and taps it deftly a couple times.  “Siri, what time is it?”

 _“The time is three o’clock,”_ says her phone, and Terezi grins in satisfaction.

“I do have three hours until I have to go!  That is more than enough time for me to go get an early dinner with you two gentlemen.  Lead the way—to an eatery of your choice, I mean, no need to actually take my hand or anything so awkward.”

Karkat’s glad, as they make their way down the block, that it’s three of them going out for dinner, because he’s not sure how he would have established that it wasn’t a date if it were just him and Sollux or—he glances surreptitiously at her smiling, sharp-edged face—Terezi.

Not that they’re not both pretty good-looking, objectively.

Sollux pulls him up short and when Karkat turns around to snap at him about it he sees why—Terezi’s stopped and fallen behind.  As they watch, she clatters her cane around the wire framework of a newspaper stand and then, with a minimum of feeling around for it, she yanks a newspaper from the top of the stack.  “Alright,” she says cheerfully, “let’s go!”

Once they’ve made their way in and found a seat and ordered milkshakes—chocolate for Karkat, cherry for Terezi, and some kind of raspberry-cherry slurpee thing for Sollux, Terezi asks them to read the paper for her.

“No,” says Sollux, almost before she finishes talking.

She raises one supercilious eyebrow.  “Oh?  Why the immediate denial, Mr. Captor?  Fear of public speaking?  I guess I’m not surprised.  Alright, I think it falls to you, Karkat!  Just start with whatever page you find most interesting.  I’m not very good at making small talk so I like to let other people do it for me, I hope you don’t mind.”

Karkat doesn’t think he’s ever heard someone talk the way she does, but he appreciates people who speak their minds and although he’d deny it, he likes the sound of his own voice.  So he starts with the only page he’s ever found interesting in any given newspaper.

The instant he says, “Aquarius,” Terezi makes a small, amused noise in the back of her throat and he stops to frown at her.

“No need to look so offended, cherry-cheeks,” says Terezi, blithely using a nickname more embarrassing than any a family member has ever given him, let alone an acquaintance of fifteen minutes.  Sollux makes a small choking noise into his milkshake and has to turn away, coughing into a napkin.  Karkat glares at him, and then at Terezi.

“You wanted small talk,” he says pointedly.  “And you said  _any page_  but if you have a problem with horoscopes I can stop!  It’s not like I was just dying to make your conversation for you.  Also, don’t call me… _that_.”

Terezi shrugs.  “I just think predicting things about someone’s day based on what time in the year they were born seems pretty illogical.”

“The fallacy of personal fulfillment,” Sollux volunteers, earning him a small, delighted laugh from Terezi.  Karkat rolls his eyes, clears his throat, and snaps the paper—rather unimpressively, given its modest size, but Terezi has the decency to sit back and look slightly chagrined.

“I’m sorry, Karkat,” she says.  “I’m listening, I promise.  I do find it interesting, just not…”

“Logical, yeah,” he grumbles, and starts over again.

_ARIES:  You should be proud of your achievements.  Take the opportunity this week to seek out connections you thought were dead.  Remember to be understanding when others do not share your interests._

_TAURUS: It’s alright to feel as though you cannot stand on your own, but do not put all your eggs in one basket.  Today is a good day for baby steps._

_GEMINI: Listen to others’ points of view when you find yourself divided.  More than one person is seeking your company and today is a good day to forgive._

_CANCER:  It’s natural to be hesitant about new developments.  If you persevere in a strange environment, you may find yourself growing beyond your old boundaries._

_LEO: All you lions out there should remember to pounce on new opportunities, especially for new friendships.  Look for those who seem separated from the herd and be persistent in the hunt.  Highest compatibility: Sagittarius_

_VIRGO: It’s time to give up on an old flame.  Lowest compatibility: Scorpio_

_LIBRA:  Critical thinking is a virtue but for the best possible outcome, be alert for unlikely-sounding truths._

_SCORPIO:  Be more sensitive to others’ emotions.  You may find that their perceptions of you are different from what you thought.  This week, accept changes in your environment._

_SAGITTARIUS: You may feel isolated at times, but you will not always be alone. It’s alright not to be strong sometimes._

_CAPRICORN: It is not a wise decision to invite the campus police to smoke with you.  Metaphorically speaking._

_AQUARIUS: You may have expectations of your friends that they are not actually aware of.  Try to take bad news more gracefully than usual, or you may find yourself in danger of ruining a close friendship._

_PISCES: Today is a good day for romance, but seek to build trust through honesty with old friends.  Don’t forget to take time for you and relax._

_Most Lucky: VIRGO_

_Least Lucky: SCORPIO_

“A lot of people getting told to make friends,” Sollux observes.  “Must be a start of the year thing for all the superstitious little freshmen.”

“Hey, fuck you!  I’ll bet you don’t even know what your sign is!”

“No, but I bet you could tell me if I gave you my birth date.  June second, go.”

“Ha!  See, Gemini is supposed to listen to others’ points of view!”

“Good general advice for anyone,” says Sollux dismissively.

“Says the guy who doesn’t want to listen to it, but whatever, douche.  Terezi, when’s your birthday?”

The girl gives him a thin smile.  “Oh no, Mister Cherrycheeks, I know what my sign is already!  You would feel much the same about my predictions as you did about your friend’s.”

“My name is Karkat, fucking hell.  Have a little respect, why don’t you?  And what are you, then, Capricorn?  Have you gotten in trouble with campus police, then?”

She snorts.  “Don’t be ridiculous!  I am a Libra.  I did think Capricorn  _was_ oddly specific, though.  Perhaps the author of these horoscopes knows a Capricorn and wants to mock them discreetly?”

“ _Be alert for unlikely-sounding truths_ ,” mutters Karkat, and Terezi waves an impatient hand at him.

“Yes, yes, I heard it the first time!  And—“

At this moment, however, her phone starts chiming and when she swipes a thumb across it, a stiff male voice with an English accent says,  _“Forty-five minutes until D &D Club.”  _The word  _D &D_ is garbled—apparently the reading apparatus doesn’t quite know what to do with it.

“Hrrm,” says Terezi, putting the phone back in her pocket.  “I only have fifteen minutes left to spend here, gentlemen.  We should finish our food and swap numbers!”

“You don’t  _know_ I want to trade phone numbers with you,” says Karkat, still sore over being ganged up on.  Terezi ignores him.  Lunch is burgers and fries and one ultra-spicy buffalo chicken burrito, which Terezi seems to enjoy immensely despite the fact that it makes her sneeze and hiccup.  By the end of it, everyone has been mocked enough in their turn that trading numbers is a somewhat grudging affair on all parts.  But Terezi seems to think, just as Karkat and Sollux do, that arguing is much more interesting than small talk.

Then Terezi has to catch a bus to her “D&D Club” (one of the things they both relentlessly teased her about—“Pre-Law student with a minor in rolling dice, huh?”), and Sollux excuses himself to “go meet a person.”  He doesn’t elaborate further and Karkat, whose social meter is maxed out anyway, doesn’t pry further.

When he wanders back into the bedroom, slightly poleaxed by the fact that it’s day one and he already seems to have friends of a sort—not something he ever expected when he was sitting in the corner of the bathroom and crying yesterday.

Gamzee is sprawled in the exact same place he was when Karkat left, like a shirt you haven’t bothered to pick up after throwing them at the laundry basket and missing.

“Didja have fun, motherfucker?”

Karkat opens his mouth with a short snarling noise, and then slowly closes it, looking thoughtful.

“…Mn.”

“Aw, goooood!” Gamzee drawls blissfully.  “Man, I heard you out there all saying hello and such to greet like that and man, so motherfuckin’  _sweet_.”

“I’m not  _sweet_ , I just know how to make an effort socially,” says Karkat brusquely, collapsing onto his bed.  “Don’t…call me fucking  _sweet_.  You’re worse than Terezi.”

“Is that a friend you done to meet today?  Man, see, told you you’re a  _miracle_.”

“You don’t have to be miraculous to talk to people,  _God_ , what is wrong with you?  What was wrong with your  _parents_?  Didn’t they ever teach you how to take care of yourself in real society?”

He’s expecting a stoned giggle or grammatically-mangled babbling about how really great Mr. and Mrs. Makara are, but Gamzee just gives him a long, sort of confused look and then reaches down to scratch the wiry-haired top of his goat’s head.

“…I dunno, bro.  They always did their best, I think.”

“What,” says Karkat despite himself, “you weren’t some homeschooled shut-in, were you?  Did you spend all your life up till now just sitting in your bedroom getting high?  I could just see that.  It would explain everything.”

“Well…” says Gamzee, his forehead furrowing as though comparing Karkat’s hypotheticals with his childhood, “…I ain’t sayin’ that’s exactly how it was…”

“What?”

“Which is all to up and remindin’ me, can you listen to the bad stuff I done this week?”

“ _What_?”

“Since I’m all out on my own, you know, and you’re a motherfucker’s roommate...I gotta tell  _someone_.”

“What do you think I am, a fucking priest?   I’m well out of that, but even if I weren’t I’m pretty sure I wouldn’t be qualified!”

“Well, that ain’t...it’s just, you gotta apologize at doin’ a wrong thing, right?”

“...Sure,” says Karkat, more to humor him than anything else.  He’s not in the habit of apologizing for much of anything, but supposedly it’s something decent people do.

“Well, the picture of Grandpa is at home on the wall, o’ course, and it’s not like I can call home to--”

Karkat holds up a hand, scowling in confusion.  “Hold the fuck up.  What does the picture of your grandpa have to do with it?”

Gamzee blinks slowly, bewildered, letting his head roll to one side.  “...Well bro, I’d do a bad thing like say, use a fuck word at the table, and Aunt Louisa May would say  _go and apologize to Grandpa_ so I’d head upstairs to the hallway and there was this picture, sometimes scared the allmighty shitfuck outta me on the way to the bathroom some nights, do not mind sayin’.  Anyway, I thought...y’know...seemed to make sense…”

“Oh,” says Karkat.  “…Jesus.  Your family really  _is_ fucked up.  Including you!”

“No—no, man, they took care of me my whole life, shouldn’t say a word against ‘em…”

Gamzee trails off into a wordless mumble, one hand tangled in his black curls.  After a moment of staring, slack-mouthed, up at the ceiling, he rolls over and fumbles under his pillow until his hand reappears holding a plastic bag.  Karkat doesn’t have to look at the contents to know what it is.

\--

The building in question is closed.  On any other occasion, Terezi would simply assume that the rest of the group was late, but snarky Miss Blueberryhair is meaner than that.  So she walks up to the woman trimming the bushes nearby and says, “Excuse me, Ma’am, I was told to come to Jack Hall at this time but I think I may have gotten something wrong…”

To make it to the right place, Terezi has to take another bus, navigate a confusing web of sidewalks, and skirt around a large crowd of athletes—probably rugby, she thinks, though neither this nor football have ever been areas of interest for her.  Not least because they are spectator sports.

Vriska isn’t outside, and Terezi realizes as she walks through the front door of the hall that she made the inexcusable mistake of failing to ask for a room number.  Still, there are ways around it, and with a little more asking around she finds herself outside the door of Room 108, only five minutes late.  Other people might take a moment to shuffle nervously and take deep breaths before opening the door, but Terezi Pyrope has never had patience for hesitation.

She recognizes Vriska’s hair instantly, and takes a quick headcount of the rest of the room--three other people.  One with a purple scarf around their neck and a DM’s screen in front of them, one in what might be a brown leather coat, his hair a dark tuft above the shadows of his eyes, and another all in red, with unseasonably long sleeves.  The second one is the first to spot her, and when he speaks he proves to have a gentle baritone voice.

“Uh, Vriska…is that the girl you were talking about?”

Vriska straightens from where she’s bent over the grid and whips around, all open surprise for a single moment before reverting to her usual facade.

“Oh,” she says, “you made it.”  She sounds caught between grudging admiration and annoyance.  The other two roleplayers shift behind her in what Terezi would hazard is an uncomfortable way.

“I went to the Jack Hall on the Comm side of campus first, but as it turns out there’s one at State too!  A pity you forgot to remind me of that small fact.”   _And your move, Blueberry._

“I’m just glad you managed to get here!” says Vriska, almost cloying in her cheerfulness.  “Aradia and Eridan both attend State, but I com _pletely_ forgot to mention it.”  She is intriguingly deceitful.  Terezi is excited to introduce her no doubt equally deceitful character to Redglare.

“Vris,” says the bescarfed one accusingly, “you didn’t tell  _me_  there was gonna be one extra tonight! You’re just lucky we’re startin’ fresh to kick off the semester instead of workin’ offa last year’s huge badass campaign.  Not that this one ain’t gonna be huge an’ badass in the end, but  _anyway_...  I think it’ll be fine with four players.  I ain’t gonna need extra contingencies until later, and I  _guess_ I can go to the effort of settin’ them up...”

“So good to know I won’t be an inconvenience!  Miss Blueberryhair, why don’t you introduce me to your friends?” says Terezi, settling down in a chair between Vriska and the person in red.

“Yes,” says Vriska, who twitched visibly at the nickname, “ _my_ friends…  This is Tavros Nitram.”  She gestures to the deep-voiced one, who starts to wave and then drops his hand awkwardly.  There’s a glossy chrome shaft leaning against his chair--a cane, but sturdier than hers, with a brace at the top.

“Don’t worry, Tavros, I can see!” says Terezi, flashing him a grin.  “Not well enough to drive or read much of anything, though.”

“Oh, well, okay—“

“Tavros is my boyfriend!” says Vriska, leaning over to put an arm around him.  He laughs deep in his chest, a little awkwardly, which tells Terezi all she needs to know about  _that_ relationship.

Nope, not touching that with a ten-foot pole.

“That’s…good to hear,” she says, eliminating any semblance of sarcasm.  “What about your other friends here?”

“Aradia Megido!” says the red-clothed one, extending one hand.  Her palms are calloused and rough and she grips with great enthusiasm.  Terezi returns the pressure gladly.  She’s always thought it’s silly to judge someone’s honesty by their handshake, but in this case she finds herself predisposed to liking Aradia Megido.

Still, everyone’s hiding something.  Finding out what those things are is half the fun of friendship!

“…And our DM, Eridan Ampora,” Vriska finishes, waving a hand at the one in the purple scarf.

“Oh,  _very_ flattered, I’m sure,” Eridan mutters.  His voice is high, pleasant enough if somewhat petulant at the moment.   Terezi decides to reserve judgment on him; he might just be in a bad mood tonight.

Might as well get set up, then.  It looks as though they were about to start, and Terezi dislikes being the reason for a delay.  With a little digging and careful feeling around, she withdraws from her backpack her dice (all of which are bright red) and a much-used character sheet, which she presents to the group at large with an officious clearing of her throat.

“Redglare,” she says, sharp and businesslike.  “Paladin.  I have it memorized for the most part but if Miss Serket wouldn’t mind keeping an eye on it for me I would greatly appreciate it!”

She gives Vriska her brightest and most terrifying smile, not pushing her eyesight to check whether the expression is returned.  The other girl responds with an unimpressed snort, reaching out to slide the sheet her way.

“So you’re not a beginner, then,” says Eridan, brightening.  “That’s good, teachin’ new people can be a fuckin’ pain in the ass.  Some kid tried to get into the middle of last year’s campaign and he didn’t even last a month.”

“I wonder why,” says Terezi, still smiling.  Across from her, Aradia laughs aloud.  Terezi couldn’t say for sure that Vriska just shot her a glare, but the odds are pretty good.  She doesn’t shift so much as a muscle in Vriska’s direction.

“You don’t have any note-taking paper,” Vriska observes, sounding suspicious.  “Do I have to do that for you as well?  Read your notes out loud and shit?”

“I’ll take audio recordings when I feel the need,” says Terezi, waving her phone in one hand.  “The rest of it I’ll keep in  _here_.”  She taps her temple, which gets her a scoff from Vriska and a noise of mild curiosity from Aradia.

“Let’s get started, then,” says Eridan, apparently unfazed by--or unaware of--Terezi’s pointed comment.  “No need to sit around makin’ small talk!  You said you got your sheet memorized, so tell us about yourself.”

So she does, thinking as she talks that the odds are good Vriska will be checking her point for point against the sheet.  Well, that’s fine.  The only mildly bothersome thing about putting it in Vriska’s possession for the game is that the drawing of Redglare on it is from several years ago, before her sight began to deteriorate.  It holds some sentimental value still, but it was still made by a 13-year-old Terezi.

But Vriska hasn’t made a comment so far, and keeps her silence as Terezi makes her way through backstory and traits and stats.

Her companions are Marquise Spinneret Mindfang, Rufioh the Summoner, and the Handmaid, and Terezi is already deeply pleased by the descriptions of each.  It’s clear that her fellow players have a passion for detail and depth, much as she does.

Now all that remains is for the DM to prove himself.

“So, are we getting started any time tonight?” Vriska prompts, leaning around Tavros to look at the head of the table.

Eridan clears his throat, and then his entire demeanor changes.  He leans forward on the table behind his screen, adjusts his square black glasses, and lowers his voice to something a little grander and more refined.  Terezi thumbs the Record button on her phone.

“You’re in a portside town, near the end of Summer; it’s unseasonably cold but the streets are full of townspeople and seafarers of all sorts.  Merchants, pirates, fishers,  _more_ fishers...everything smells of fish and salt.  There are navy sailors in the area too, but contrary to what you might expect, they keep their heads down and stay well away from criminals for the most part.  More than anything this is a pirate town, and while for the most part everyone gets along by minding their own business, a small fight can turn into a full-out brawl in the streets.”

“My kind of town,” Vriska murmurs, and Terezi finds herself smiling involuntarily.  Eridan gives them a pointed look, then continues with, if anything, increased aplomb.

“Your inventory holds, in addition to whatever else you got, an assortment of gold rings inlaid with purple stones and a purple cape, which the Handmaiden acquired from a dead body on the outskirts of town.”  (Aradia nods approvingly.) “And you find yourselves--”

“ _\--In a tavern?_ ” Terezi asks under her breath.

“--hiding in an alleyway from some very angry men who want the rings and cloak,” Eridan finishes a little more loudly, and a little shifting and clicking behind the DM screen suggests he’s making a roll for something.  “They’re nearby but…”  _rattle rattle clatter_ “...they ain’t spotted you yet.  Still, it’s only a matter of time.”

“How many are there?” asks Terezi.

“They pass your hidin’ place occasionally, travelin’ in groups of three or four.   Full count can’t be determined.  If you start raisin’ a fuss, more might come runnin’.”

“We should attack them,” says Vriska instantly, and Terezi can  _hear_ the character in her voice, Marquise Spinneret Mindfang’s haughty indifference.  It’s really quite impressive.

“Or we could ask  _why_ they want the cloak and rings,” Tavros add, his voice oddly less hesitant than it was before.

“I’d be interested to know more as well,” says Aradia.  “And maybe once they’ve told us more...I wouldn’t mind taking Mindfang’s suggestion.”

And then all eyes are on Terezi, who says, “We will get answers...if we attack first and then ask questions.  Everyone wins!”

\--

It’s getting dark outside when she emerges from the hall—Terezi’s least favorite part of the colder weather—but even that isn’t enough to dampen her mood.  Between Vriska’s vicious keenness, Tavros’s earnest enthusiasm, Aradia’s oddly adorable morbidity, and Eridan’s unabashedly dramatic narration, the little group has spun the most promising beginning to any campaign Terezi has ever played.

More than anything else the first year of college might offer, this is sure to be a real adventure!

 

 


	2. Syllabi

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Horoscope shit gets real.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Not much to say about this chapter except that when I was editing it it turned out to be a lot longer than I remembered! A lot happens--Karkat socializes, homework becomes a factor in people's lives, and most of the rest of the twelve mains are introduced. Also, as indicated by the summary, the horoscopes get intensely weird.

The first week is not as awful as Karkat has been lead to expect.  Some of his teachers are downright assholes, but he hasn’t talked back to any of them yet and at least now he has a to-do list to keep himself occupied.  He memorizes syllabi and buys supplies for the whole semester—multiple shopping trips are for losers.

Despite being a fiercely outspoken contributor to class discussions (sometimes to the annoyance of others), he doesn’t actually make much casual conversation with his classmates.  And all except for a stocky, cheerful girl in his Film History class, they seem happy to ignore him.   

Said girl has short, wiry hair and spots on her face and dresses in clothes that might be from the boys’ section in some clothing store, and is the best-liked and most charismatic of his classmates.  Despite her general sociability, however, she seems to strictly limit her interactions with Karkat to covert, smiling glances.  

Karkat finds this consternating, but it seems to be a component of her personality that no one can really dislike her, even him.  Still, perhaps that’s the most worrying part about her, because Karkat can usually find something to dislike about anyone.

Gamzee is gone every day until the evening, which would indicate that he’s going to class, but the goat is also missing so Karkat can’t be sure he’s not just smoking in a corner somewhere.  Still, whatever.  Not his problem.  Next year, he tells himself, he’ll badger Sollux into rooming with him and they can argue day in and day out.  No matter how tiring it sounds, it can’t be worse than living with a permanently high clown.

Gamzee doesn’t have a backpack--just one notebook which contains, from what Karkat’s seen, minimal notes for all his classes.  Gamzee is one of those people who doesn’t know the difference between uppercase and lowercase letters, and Karkat hasn’t spoken properly grammatical Spanish for years but even he can tell that his roommate is not off to a good start in Spanish 101.

This impression is compounded on Friday when Karkat finally does see Gamzee attending class in the Arts and Sciences building with the goat  _sitting next to his desk_. Goddammit.  And when he’s back at the dorm, either lying on the grass of the quad or inside on his bed, he does nothing but smoke and play the same album over and over again—something that sounds like a cross between country and trance music.  

Things come to a head on Wednesday, when Karkat stumbles into the bedroom to find Gamzee sprawled on  _Karkat’s_ bed, eating ramen, with the fucking  _goat_ lying next to him, chewing on a notebook.  Karkat doesn’t speak at first because his brain is torn between fury at the usurpation of his bed, both by Gamzee and his goddamn goat, and the question,  _IS THAT ONE OF MY NOTEBOOKS?!_   

Then he notices that the notebook is, in fact, Gamzee’s—he recognizes the rainbow sticker on the cover—and his anger morphs into frustration with his roommate’s total incompetence.  It’s not his business, but that’s never stopped him from getting involved with anything before.

“Gamzee, you utter…fucking… _trashcan_.”

“Hmmmmyeah brother?”

“Do you have class today?”

“Sure do, Karkat.  Come to think of it, fucker’s probably all goin’ down now.  Statistics or some shit, probly.”

“Oh my god.  Get up.  Get up, get off my bed, and for the love of  _god_ take that cup of ramen with you!  Do you eat anything else?!”

Gamzee’s face screws up in hurt puzzlement as he maneuvers himself off the bed—all without actually standing up—while Karkat gingerly tries to shoo the goat off after him.

“I mean, I did have, like…I tried a leaf off one of the trees in the big lawn.  Hellafuckin’ bitter, though.”

Karkat pauses, hands gripping the goat around its barrel-like sides, and stares at Gamzee in outraged disbelief.  “You’re lying on  _my bed_.  During  _class time_.  While your fucking  _goat_ eats your only goddamn notebook!  And the only things you’ve eaten all week is  _fucking ramen and a goddamn fucking leaf_!”

“True,” says Gamzee, after a moment spent carefully counting off on his fingers.  Karkat deposits the belligerently flailing goat on his roommate’s stomach and stalks out, speechless for once.  He catches himself thinking of how to find out what Gamzee’s meal plan is and make him eat actual food, but stops himself.  Not his job.

He doesn’t see much of Sollux or Terezi, though he does pass Terezi once walking to class.  Unsure of how to accost a legally blind girl who walks like the world’s supposed to get out of her way, he keeps walking, feeling like a bit of a heel.

And then, finally, it’s the weekend.

Karkat has breakfast in the local dining hall, as per the allowance of his meal plan, and then, fully sated by eggs and waffles, he grabs a copy of yesterday’s paper and drags himself back upstairs.  He only pauses for a moment by the door of his own room before sneezing at the smell of pot and heading for Room 222 instead.

The first thing he notices, in the second before opening the door without knocking, is that there are voices coming from inside, and it’s not Sollux talking to himself.

Once the door has been opened, it turns out to be Sollux plus two—a black girl with a laughing, heart-shaped face, wearing all bright pink, and a boy with dark hair slicked back with what had to be a gallon of...whatever people put on hair to keep it down. Sollux and the girl are sitting on the floor, his back to the bed, her legs across his.  The other boy has commandeered one of Sollux’s desk chairs, sitting on it as though he would rather touch as little of it as possible. When Karkat steps in the girl waves, while Sollux grimaces and tilts his head in the direction of his other guest, who gives Karkat an incredibly brazen stare.

“What are you, albino?” he says, and the girl makes a shocked, disapproving little noise.  Karkat, however, gives him a look of guarded interest.

“First of all, my name’s Karkat Vantas.  Second, yes, some people don’t get that and if you’re not a total ass about it I might consider forgiving you for making that your first question.”

“Eridan Ampora,” says the guy, sniffing and turning back to Sollux and his probably-girlfriend.  The look on his face that suggests he would rather they not be touching at all.  Karkat’s scalp prickles with interest but he keeps his face set in its neutral state--somewhere between impassive and annoyed.

“And you?” he says, nodding to the girl.  She stops in the middle of rolling her eyes at Eridan to smile blindingly at him.

“Feferi Peixes!  I’m a freshman, like you!”

Karkat flops into Sollux’s other chair and sprawls there, registering the latter’s mixed amusement and annoyance.  “How do you know I’m a freshman?”

“Sollux told me about it on our date on Monday!” Feferi chirps, and Karkat can’t help grinning.  Bingo.  So this is “the person” he said he was “meeting” on Monday.

Sollux, whose face has gone a blotchy red, glowers at the floor and mutters, “FF, can you… _not_ talk about dates and shit to him?   _Please_?”

“What, are you ashamed of dating her, then?” asks Eridan, quick as a whiplash.

“No, he just thinks I’ll make fun of him,” says Karkat before Sollux can answer.  “It’s a valid concern since basically all we’ve done since we met is argue.  But I’m just legitimately interested!  You have a girlfriend?”

“Don’t say it like I should’ve told you,” says Sollux, disgruntled.  “It only just happened and I’m still waiting for her to get tired of me.”

Feferi giggles and ruffles his hair and says something about how cute he is when he’s grumpy.  Karkat thinks how incredibly lucky the bastard is to have found someone who thinks grumpiness is  _cute_.  

“What you got there, Kar?” asks Eridan loudly.  Presumably he’s been thinking along the same general lines and wants to distract himself.  Karkat gives him a look that hopefully comes across as  _Could you try not to be so painfully fucking obvious_ before holding up the newspaper for examination.

“What are you going to do, read the horoscopes again?” asks Sollux, grinning his toothy, lopsided grin.

“Ooh, could you please?” says Feferi eagerly.  “I’m Pisces!  What are you, Sollux?”

“Gemini,” Sollux mumbles, flashing a momentary glare at Karkat, who smirks but says nothing.

“Aquarius,” says Eridan unexpectedly, leaning over as Karkat flicks past article after article.  “I didn’t know this paper had a horoscopes page, otherwise I woulda actually read it last year…”

Sollux snorts, but now that he’s surrounded by “superstitious little freshman” (and one superstitious little sophomore, apparently), he seems less inclined to make any of yesterday’s snide comments.  Score, thinks Karkat with grim satisfaction, and starts reading.

_AQUARIUS:  Affection comes not from what you do to demand attention but the attention you give others._

_PISCES: Follow your own dreams and spend a little time getting your feet wet with an old hobby._

_ARIES: It may seem like everything is staying the same, but in reality everything is changing.  This death is a different death._

_TAURUS: You have intrinsic value; friends made through other people are still friends._

_GEMINI: Don’t listen to your inner skeptic. The universe has no interest in punishing you; your punishment is self-inflicted._

_CANCER: Of course it’s not your job to care for others, but that doesn’t mean you shouldn’t do it._

_LEO: Love is not found; it grows._

_VIRGO: Time to give yourself a pat on the back.  You’ve done well._

_LIBRA: Give it time.  Some people will be reluctant to give you the respect you deserve, but with diligence you will earn it irrevocably._

_SCORPIO:  Relationships cannot be taken from you, but they can die if not tended to._

_SAGITTARIUS: Be prepared to trust your own decisions._

_CAPRICORN:  Friendships require action.  If you stay in your room all day, you’ll never encounter opportunities for relationships._

“Oh boy,” says Feferi, “maybe I  _should_ go check out the intermural swimming club…  Wow, though, what a coincidence, right?   _Get your feet wet_ , huh?”  She laughs—it starts off tinkly and demure but then Sollux pokes her in the ribs and she shrieks and snorts, curling up.  One playful fist shoots out towards Sollux’s shoulder and knocks him sideways.  

“That’s gonna leave a mark,” Karkat calls across the room.  Sollux gives him the finger.

“She never did stuff like that before,” Eridan mutters--presumably to Karkat, but with his eyes still fixed on the roughhousing couple.  Karkat’s brow furrows as he makes what seems to him the most obvious connection.

“Were you two dating before or what?” he asks, staring shrewdly at Eridan.  Sollux and Feferi can’t have heard the question clearly over the din they’re making, but they stop roughhousing (for the most part) to listen to the conversation.

Eridan’s gone bright red.  “What kinda question is that?   _Jesus_.”

So he doesn’t want to talk about it now.  Alright.

“Tell me about it later,” says Karkat.  “I’m serious, I wanna know!  If you wanna tell me, anyway.”

Sollux’s brow furrows suspiciously.  “Tell him what?”

“What an asshole you are,” Eridan drawls, kicking himself around in the rolling chair to face the couple.  “ _An’_ how you’re takin’ up all a’ Fef’s free time.”

The atmosphere in the room stills a little.  Feferi turns away and scratches her neck awkwardly.  Sollux’s face tightens.

“You know,” he says, glaring at Eridan over the tops of his glasses, “that horoscope was right.”

“What does that have to do with it?” Eridan snaps.  Feferi massages her forehead.  Karkat wishes privately that she would just tell them to fucking knock it off—it’s painfully obvious that this has been going on for a while.

“I’m just saying, the fucking thing is bound to be accurate sometimes, and when it comes to demanding attention—“

Eridan actually gasps in affront, something Karkat’s never seen in real life.  Amazing.  “Okay, well,  _first_ thing is that horoscopes are actually, you know,  _a real thing_?  And  _second_ , it wasn’t sayin’ I  _do_ demand attention, just warnin’ me not to.  Personally I think they’re all a little  _too_ accurate—like, ‘get your feet wet’?  It’s like Fef said, too weird of a coincidence!  Plus  _yours_ , don’t think I didn’t miss it!  You hate yourself more than anyone I’ve ever met, so—“

“Blah, blah, blah!” Sollux half-shouts, snapping his thumb and fingers together.  “Wow, do you  _ever_ shut up?”

“I’m gonna go get some popcorn,” says Karkat, turning towards the door.  “And a notebook, this would make a great movie scene.”

This comment goes mainly unnoticed, but just in case anyone was paying enough attention—and because he’s an asshole—he actually goes into his room and grabs a small packet of popcorn.  Mama packed a couple boxes of it “for when you have movie nights with your friends,  _gordito_ ” (a nickname from when he was still a chubby, angry child, and one she never really stopped using even after the baby fat was gone).

The popcorn wouldn’t have taken all that long anyway, but he opens the mini-microwave and empties the bag into a bowl before the second minute is up.  Don’t want to miss anything.

He leaves the paper lying on the floor of the room, not noticing as he leaves again that Gamzee has rolled over to the edge of his bed to reach down and pick it up.

Eridan and Sollux are still arguing.  In the interim, they’ve both gotten on their feet and are glaring death at each other.  Sollux’s hands are stuffed sullenly deep in his pockets and Eridan’s making fists.  Karkat, slowly starting to consume his popcorn, decides not to interject for once—they’re close enough to throwing punches as it is.

“There’s somethin’  _wrong_ with these horoscopes!  We have to talk to whoever’s writing them!”

“I thought you only believed in  _scientific facts_ , ED,” says Sollux snidely.

Eridan glowers at him.  “Horoscopes  _are_ scientific, asswipe.  No one ever said they were magical!”

Sollux cackles, dropping into his chair with such enthusiasm that it rolls backwards several feet across the floor.  “Fuckin’ A!   _Horoscopes_ are  _scientific!_ I’m gonna piss myself!”

“An’ I’m gonna break your teeth!” snaps Eridan, red in the face.  “I don’t know  _what_ she sees in—“

There’s a little cough from the other side of the room.  It’s quiet and sounds like it’s coming from someone who’s heard that a cough to get someone’s attention should sound like  _“ahem”_ , but somehow it shuts up Eridan and Sollux in a second.  They both turn with nervous slowness to look at Feferi, who’s standing very straight and stiff-backed by the bed.

She says, “You know…  I really thought you two might be able to be in the same room for a little while without being totally awful to each other.”

( _And there it is,_ thinks Karkat, with more satisfaction than is probably decent.)

She shuts her mouth tightly, opens it again as though she’s about to add something, and then abruptly walks between them towards the door.  Both boys seem to know better than to try and stop her—they draw back as though the smallest touch would burn them.  Karkat squints after her as she leaves, but stops short of saying anything.  As she vanishes into the hallway, he thinks he hears a plaintive, muffled sniff.

There’s a moment of stunned silence and the Eridan rounds on Sollux, pointing an accusing finger at his face.  “See, she was  _never_ like that before!  She would never’a done somethin’ like that before she met you!”

“Glad to hear I’m a good influence,” Sollux mutters, turning the chair around.  “Now get the hell out of my room.”

For a moment Karkat expects Eridan to actually hit him, but then the tension in his shoulders lessens and he turns on his heel, stomping out.

“You too, KK,” says Sollux, opening his laptop.  His face has that hard, closed  _I fucked way up_ look on it, and he doesn’t make eye contact.

Karkat decides not to argue.

\--

A couple of days later, Karkat runs into Eridan again, loitering suspiciously around the entrance to his dorm.

“I thought you were a State student,” he says bluntly, cuffing Eridan’s leg with one foot.  The guy yelps and whips around, looking slightly hunted.  He does, however, relax a little when he sees Karkat glaring up at him and gives a tiny jerk of a shrug.

“Just…wonderin’ whether Fef would come here.”  His mouth tightens slightly and Karkat notes that there are shadows under his eyes that weren’t there last time they saw each other.  “…I’m worried about her, alright?  She’s been avoidin’ me, okay, an’ I get why, but she won’t  _talk_ to me.  I dunno if she understands what she’s doin’ to me here!”

“Well she’s been avoiding Sollux too,” says Karkat, “so you’re wasting your time.  Why don’t we go hang at your dorm and you can tell me more?  I’ve been fucking dying for some info on this SNAFU.”

Eridan gives him an odd look, but shrugs and says, “…Sure, I got nothin’ else to do.  Why not your room, though?  It’s closer.”

“There’s a whimsical pothead squatting there. Now come on, it’s buttfuck cold.”

Eridan’s room is small and full of immaculately organized books, most of which, upon closer inspection, seem to be about Greek mythology.

“Gods and heroes and shit, huh?” says Karkat, running a hand over the spines of the books.

Eridan snorts.  “Sex an’ murder an’ gross creation myths, more like.  Go on and sit down, Kar.”

As it turns out, Eridan and Feferi were not dating and never have, much to Eridan’s bitter despair.  He obviously likes her a lot, but he feels like she’s been changing since they started school at Altruss State and he says they’ve been growing apart because of it.  Karkat’s attempts to make him talk through it reasonably only drive them in increasingly dramatic circles, so eventually a subject change is in order.

Eridan is much easier to converse with when it comes to talking about romcoms, and Karkat is delighted to discover that they share some favorite movies.  His mom, he says, is exactly like the mom in My Big Fat Greek Wedding.  Karkat says he’ll have to see that to believe it and ends up with an invitation to an Ampora holiday meal.  Karkat takes him up on it without much fuss—after all, it can’t be any crazier than dinners at home, right?

They even talk briefly about the girl in Karkat’s Film History class, whom he still catches looking at him from time to time.  Eridan wants to know if she’s cute, in response to which Karkat just kind of shrugs.  He heard her mention something about playing rugby, he says.  Eridan, who (by his own previous admission) approves of muscle definition, looks sort of happily thoughtful for a moment and then manages to segue from that into another spiral of worries about Feferi.

When he wanders home around midnight, fully intending to go straight to bed, Karkat finds himself stopping outside Sollux’s door instead.

_“…know you’re not obligated to be, like, perfect or anything, right?  You can say no to people who need help, it’s alright.”_

_“But that’s how it always was, because I had to make friends and fit in, and…  I’ve just…spent so much of my life…I mean, I’ve spent so much time living two lives!  And by now I’m not even sure which one’s real…!”_

Karkat imagines Sollux awkwardly patting his girlfriend’s shoulder as he says,  _“Well shit FF…until you got it figured out you can be either one you like around me, I mean fuck!  Look at my room, literally everything I’ve got is split into two.  Not that—I mean, that’s not why I started dating you—“_

His voice cuts off abruptly and when Feferi doesn’t come storming out of the room on her own Karkat can only assume they’ve found something quieter to occupy themselves.  Feeling only minimal guilt for eavesdropping, he heads back towards his room.

Gamzee’s light is still on, which is normal.  Gamzee is wide awake and writing laboriously in his notebook, which is definitely not.  He waves a big, bony hand distractedly as Karkat stomps in, glancing back as Karkat peers cautiously over his shoulder.   Incredibly, there’s a textbook lying on his pillow next to the notebook.

“You’re…actually doing homework?” Karkat says, not bothering to hide his surprise.

“I…yeah, well, like you’ve all and been motherfuckin’ tellin’ me,” Gamzee mumbles, scratching his head.  “I’m all here for college and school and that shit.  But I’m lookin’ for this tricky little X motherfucker and I’m not sure how to find it.”

Karkat opens his mouth to say something like, “dude, that’s high school level shit”…and shuts it again.

“Let me have a look,” he says.  “Here, roll over or something.  Does your math teacher explain things multiple times?”

“Well no,” Gamzee mumbles, and Karkat thinks he sees the guy’s ears turning red under tangles of black hair.  “It’s supposed to be super motherfuckin’ easy, y’dig?”

“…Right.”  Karkat clears his throat.  “Well then, you probably need it explained differently or something.  Instead of thinking about finding X, try thinking about how to separate X from everything else.  It…doesn’t know what it is, and until you’ve got all the shit around it cleared away, it won’t be able to figure it out.  Does that make sense?”

There’s a pause, during which Gamzee looks at him with deep brown eyes that look a lot clearer than usual.  Karkat wonders if he’s been smoking less.

“…Yeah, I reckon it does,” he says.

“Well.  Good,” says Karkat, looking away abruptly.  “Try the next one.”

\--

Eridan seems touchier than usual this week.  Terezi’s sure he must be fudging his rolls for less optimal outcomes.  Even Tavros, usually so accepting of whatever fate the dice give him, seems disgruntled at their unrelentingly poor luck.  

In the end, it takes Mindfang’s death within the first half-hour for Vriska to actually pull Eridan’s screen down and see the numbers for herself, resulting in the worst end to a D&D session Terezi has ever had the displeasure of witnessing.  

This is not to say that she hasn’t witnessed ends like it before--for instance, Zayn Prendergast in highschool, who was without a doubt the most passive-aggressive DM of all time, once accidentally-on-purpose spilled soft drink all over the grid and pieces.  But this is probably worse, Terezi thinks, because Vriska and Eridan obviously know exactly how to get under each other’s skin and they are doing so with every sign of enthusiasm.

“I’ll just bet this is about your crush and her new  _boyfriend_.  It is, isn’t it?  And you’re taking it out on us!  Were you hoping they would  _break up_  so you could step in and comfort--”

“You shut your no-good lyin’ mouth!” shouts Eridan.  “Don’t make me get Kan on the phone, I swear I will!”

“ _God_ , no!” says Vriska, recoiling as she draws out the word ‘god’ to truly epic length.  “Keep Miss Fussyface out of this!  I mean, unless you  _need_ Mommy to come break up the fight, I guess it’s your choice.”

Eridan colors and suddenly starts shoving the books and miniatures into his backpack, being rougher than he normally would be with his treasured props.  “You know what--fine--Jesus--you know, I wouldn’t have even mentioned it if you hadn’t really gone below the belt there, just ‘cause you’re havin’ scholastic issues don’t mean you gotta--”

Vriska sits up straight, banging both hands down on the table. “And that  _wasn’t_ below the belt?  Pot, meet fucking  _kettle_!  Good job, Ampora,  _really_ good job there!”

“Whatever, I’m  _leavin’_ ,” he snaps, standing up and swinging his bag violently over one shoulder.  “Put away the rest of the stuff yourselves, I can’t do this tonight.  All gangin’ up on me like it’s my own damn pain in the ass fault you ain’t thought to do use Diplomacy!”

Terezi covers her ears preemptively, but the BANG of the door slamming still makes her wince.

“...Well,” says Tavros wearily into the silence, “that was...unpleasant.”

“Take it up with  _him_ ,” Vriska mutters, her head twitching in the direction of the door.  “ _Not his fault_ my ass.”

Terezi clears her throat carefully and says, “So...some of that went over my head.  What was that about a crush and a boyfriend?”

She feels a little bit bad for asking, if only because Tavros is already obviously uncomfortable and will likely have to listen to more impassioned ranting later in private.  But when Terezi Pyrope’s curiosity is piqued, nothing will do but to ask the pressing questions and get some answers.

As she expected, Vriska is more than willing to talk about Eridan’s problems.

“His childhood friend started dating some skinny-ass Indian kid over the Summer,” says Vriska, in an almost-casual voice.  She’s quite good at feigning composure, but Terezi can hear the slight shake of anger in her words.  “He’s been moaning about it ever since.  He’s been put in the friendzone,  _apparently_.”

“Is he mad  _because_ the skinny-ass kid is Indian?” asks Terezi absently, carefully restoring her dice to their box.  No more campaigning tonight.

Vriska scoffs.  “Ugh, no.  His parents are like that, but it’s not really one of his problems.  Not that he doesn’t have  _plenty_ of other problems!”

“What’s the guy’s name?” asks Terezi.

“What guy?”

“The skinny new boyfriend!”

“Oh.  I don’t remember, fuck, do you think I have time to listen to all Eridan’s whining?  It’s, like, Sollel or something.  I don’t know.”

Terezi looks up sharply.  “Sollux?”

“Sure, probably.”

“I know him!  We have a visit planned tomorrow!”

“Good for you,” says Vriska lightly, flipping her hair.  “Now, are we leaving or not?”

“You know Sollux?” says Aradia, eyes fixed intently on Terezi.  Tavros glances at her, a little groove appearing between his eyebrows.  “Sollux  _Captor_?”

“I should think the first name Sollux is unique enough on its own, but yes!” Terezi replies, tilting her head in an attempt to gauge Aradia’s tone.  It’s difficult with her—far more difficult than with Vriska, whose false emotions are blatant enough to point at exactly what she’s really feeling.

“I knew him in high school.”  

_Curiosity? Sadness?  What does ‘knew’ mean?_

Terezi weighs her chances of getting more out of Aradia through further questioning and decides there are much more interesting techniques to use.

“Would you like to visit him with me tomorrow?” she asks.  “Tavros and Vriska could come with!  I’m sure he’d, well, be grumpy and cantankerous to have company.”

Aradia giggles, and it’s a sound of fond familiarity.  Terezi’s interest deepens.

“Go hang out with some nerd from Aradia’s old school?” Vriska scoffs.  “Sure, sounds like a blast, count me in!”

“That sure was, pretty sarcastic of you,” says Tavros, straightening slightly, “But you don’t have to go, you know?”

Vriska switches tack so fast that Terezi can’t help but be impressed.  “Of course I do!  What kind of a friend would I be if I wasn’t there for my BFF Aradia?”  She pulls something out of her backpack with a rustle of paper, now nonchalant.  “Anyway, I’m always interested in meeting new people.”

“I think you could probably say that, yes!” Aradia chimes in, and there’s a little extra edge in her voice that makes Terezi’s mouth quirk in a genuine smile.

“There are, uh, definitely things you seem to enjoy about meeting new people,” Tavros mumbles, and leans over so that Vriska, pulling at his shoulder, can kiss him on the cheek.  Then she sits back, exuding satisfaction, and pulls some kind of paper sheaf out of her backpack, turning to a page near the back.

“What is that?” asks Terezi abruptly, cocking her head.  “ _The Illuminator_?”

“I read it for the horoscopes,” says Vriska—her tone, as usual, daring anyone to make fun of her.

Terezi gives her a half-grin.  “What a coincidence! I know someone else who does the same thing.  Why don’t you read them aloud?”

Vriska is much more easily persuaded than Karkat, despite her inherent contrariness.  She clears her throat ostentatiously and starts reading.

_ARIES: You are strong-willed and enthusiastic, but you have difficulty addressing your emotions._

_TAURUS: You are thoughtful and compassionate, but you have a skewed idea of what real bravery is._

_GEMINI: You are witty and logical, but your inner conflicts get the better of you too often._

_CANCER:  You are bold and decisive, but you talk too much, too loudly._

_LEO: You are kind and intuitive, but you have trouble letting the future take shape on its own._

_VIRGO: You are beautiful and hard-working, but you concern yourself too deeply with other people._

_LIBRA: You are meticulous and insightful, but you overestimate your insight._

_SCORPIO: You are quick-learning and cunning, but you do not trust in your own talents enough._

_SAGITTARIUS: You are strong and stoic, but you have unrealistic standards for others._

_CAPRICORN: You are creative and friendly, but you don’t allow for any true self-expression._

_AQUARIUS: You are devoted and intelligent, but frequently demanding and insensitive._

_PISCES: You are genuine and helpful, but you put your own needs below others._

“Those are the weirdest fucking horoscopes  _I’ve_ ever seen,” says Vriska conversationally.  “I wonder which one’s me.”

Terezi blinks.  “You don’t know?  Then why do you read them?”

“Shits and giggles, Pyrope!  I don’t need a paper to tell me how lucky I’m going to be this week or whatever the fuck.”

“Don’t need or don’t  _want_ because you’re afraid of finding bad news?” asks Terezi.  It’s one of those whipcrack questions, the ones she throws out quick and sharp just to see if she can catch someone off-guard with a correct guess.  It works about 80% of the time and she anticipates using it in court in the future.

“I just think they’re funny,  _Jesus_ , Pyrope, you are so  _weird_!”

The defensiveness in her voice points to a jackpot.  Terezi sits back, mainly satisfied but, at her core, slightly disgruntled.   “Overestimate your insight” indeed.

\--

Well.

That’s very…

Hm.

Karkat sits back, narrowing his eyes at  _The Illuminator_  as though it’s insulted him intimately.  Which, he thinks sourly, focusing on the horoscope for Cancer, it really has.

The paper comes out on Monday, but for some reason ever since the first time Terezi picked up a copy at the Club Fair, Karkat’s gotten into the habit of grabbing his issue on Fridays.  It might, he considers, be time to break that habit.  He wants to see the next thing it has to say as soon as possible.

He’d meant to talk to Sollux or Terezi or even Gamzee about the weird horoscopes over the weekend, but ferociously hammering away at a four-page paper for Philosophy (both the class and the paper are so much bullshit) and trying about a dozen times to contact his Stats professor leave him too tired even to go be ornery at Sollux for more than a couple minutes.

Sollux himself is dealing with a math class most sophomores would never qualify for, and spends ungodly amounts of time shouting about proofs while listening to bands Karkat has never even heard of.  Entering Room 222 means being subjected to nonstop brutal bass drops from “doppelBanger”, “The Gold Pilots”, and “PLAID”.

On Monday night, relaxing in momentary post-paper comfort, Karkat hears his phone go off.  He remembers vaguely hearing something about an agreement that Sollux, Feferi, and Eridan would try to have a civil visit all together again, and wonders whether he’s being invited.  He’s not sure he really wants to get in the middle of that, but he can always read the text now and pretend he was sleeping if things don’t look good.

He’s surprised to see Terezi’s screen name instead.

_GC: Hey, we’re all hanging out in Sollux’s room and he’s really pissed, come tell him he’s being a silly angry nerd._

_CG: I might._

_GC: You could read the horoscope at him._

_CG: Actually that’s a good idea.  I’ve been thinking about it and we all need to be taking them more seriously._

_GC: Oh my god, just get your ass over here!_

_CG: WELL “OH MY GOD” MAYBE I WILL_

_GC: Fine!_

_CG: FUCKING FINE_

He snaps the phone shut, swings his legs off his bed with a grunt, and stamps past Gamzee, who’s trying to do his Spanish homework, with a muttered, “Gonna visit Sollux.”

“Okay, best friend.  Hey, but what’s this word here?”

“I don’t know if you don’t show me, man.  Oh, come on, you should  _know_ encontrar, it’s a fucking cognate.  Just look it up, it’ll build character or something.”

“Okay,” says Gamzee, sounding distinctly miserable.  Karkat pauses, feeling kind of like a heel (more so than usual, anyway), and then takes a few steps over to pat Gamzee awkwardly on one pointy shoulder.

“You’re doing fine, alright?  Jesus fuck, don’t look so down on yourself.  Here, say the word once.”

“En-cont-rar.”

“ _Encontrar,_ ” Karkat repeats, this time with the correct pronunciation.

“Encontrar,” says Gamzee obediently.

“Good enough.  Probably better than most.  Now, what’s that sound like?”

Gamzee stares up at the ceiling, slack-jawed for a long moment and then, eyes widening, he says, “Ennn...counter?”

“Yeah!” says Karkat, too stunned to suppress the incredulous little half-smile spreading on his face.  “But you’d be using it more like ‘to meet’ or ‘to find’, alright?  Just remember that.  Hey, if you ever want to have a conversation I’m still pretty damn fluent in Spanish.  Might end up teaching you some words you’re not supposed to know, though.”

Gamzee brightens.  “Sounds good, brother!”

“Uh, yeah…well, later then.  Gotta go.”

When Karkat walks into Sollux’s room, Terezi’s already sitting in one corner.  This in and of itself isn’t especially surprising, but there’s even more company settled nearby—two other girls and a boy, none of whom Karkat’s ever seen before.  Sollux is at his computer, staring fixedly at the screen, and while Terezi is in loud, cheerful conversation with one of the girls—tall and skinny with shaggy half-blue hair—the other two seem awkward and uncertain, casting nervous glances in Sollux’s direction.

Karkat decides to watch a little longer before making direct inquiries about it with his own personal brand of subtlety.  For now, though…

“Hey, assholes, what’s going on?”

Terezi sticks her tongue out and her blue-haired friend glares with bicolored eyes—one blue, one hazel.  The skin around her blue eye has a web of crisscrossing scars and is distinctly unnerving.  

Sollux doesn’t even look up, but he twitches at Karkat’s shouted greeting and says, “KK.”

If he’s trying to communicate something with that, he’ll have to try harder.  Karkat glances out the door to see Eridan and Feferi approaching from the other end of the hallway, and briefly considers ducking out and leaving; the prospect right now is five or more people in the same small bedroom, and two of them will be Eridan and Sollux.  He’s not sure he wants to sit this close to the fireworks.

But in the end, natural curiosity gets the better of him.  If a fight starts, he can always just bail.

“You going to introduce yourselves?” he asks the new arrivals.  

“Eridan!” says Terezi before her friends can say anything.   Karkat glances over his shoulder to see that the final two visitors have arrived.  Time for the fireworks, probably.  “Are you also a friend of Sollux’s?”

The blue-haired girl laughs loudly in that we’re-sharing-a-private-joke kind of way that some people have.

“No,” says Eridan, glaring at the laughing girl.  “What, you are?”

“I am,” says Terezi, her grin belying her grave tone.  “Though he doesn’t seem very interested in acting like anyone’s friend at the moment!”

Eridan rolls his eyes in a way that seems to suggest that Terezi must surely by now be realizing her poor choice in friends.  She sticks her tongue out at him.

“Terezi told us you were bringing the paper,” says the other girl Karkat doesn’t know, looking over at him.  She has round, dimpled cheeks and feathery eyebrows and curious black eyes.  She also keeps glancing at Sollux.  Interesting.

“I’m sure she’s super fucking excited about it, too,” Karkat says, glancing down at the issue of  _The Illuminator_ in his hand.  “I just wasn’t expecting to be reading it to like a hundred fucking people.  Never expected your room to become a social hotspot, nerd.”

“Shut up, KK,” Sollux grinds out, barely moving his lips.

“You shut up.”

“Fuck you.”

“Whatever.  Can I grab this chair?  Thanks.”  He wheels a swivel chair away from its place beside Sollux, dislodging some dirty laundry and messy coding notes from its seat in the process.  Sollux makes a noise like a cat trying to cough something up without attracting anyone’s attention.

Terezi clears her throat officiously.  “Karkat!  These are my D&D friends: Vriska, Aradia, and Tavros.  I couldn’t get Eridan to pick up my calls and be invited, but as it turns out you all seem to know each other already!  What a surprise.”

“Yeah, I’m really fuckin’ astonished,” Eridan calls, “now can we get on with the horoscope thing?  Since it’s apparently a whole big thing now.”

“I think it could be a great tradition for our friendgroup!” says Feferi, and she sounds so earnest that even Karkat can’t bring himself to make fun of the idea to her face.  Still, he can’t resist mouthing “friendgroup?” a little incredulously and glancing at the newcomers in the corner.  Vriska gives him the finger.  Tavros smiles a little uncertainly, and glancing in his direction Karkat notes briefly the cane leaning against the bed next to him and the gleam of metal under one pant leg where ankle should have been showing through.  Aradia is still looking at Sollux.

Karkat tries an officious little cough of his own and says, “Okay, but before I do today’s, you guys need to hear last week’s instead.”  There’s an immediate chorus of boos, started of course by Terezi and quickly picked up by Vriska, Eridan, and Feferi.  

“We already read those!” calls Vriska, sounding thoroughly smug.  The familiar sensation of his cheeks seeming to catch fire prompts him to quickly pick up today’s paper and open it with a snap, burying his face in the pages and gazing ferociously at their contents.

The first few are even weirder and more obscure than usual, and Karkat can’t for the life of him make any correlation between them and the people he knows have those signs.  Maybe the writer’s just gotten lucky before and they really are weird coincidences from some…horoscope prankster.

Then he reaches Cancer.

Karkat stares.  One hand moves unconsciously to his left side, where a patch of skin between two of his ribs has started tingling.

“KK?”

“Nothing interesting today,” he says abruptly.  “You’re right, horoscopes are ass-backwards Dark Ages shit.  You know, whatever, it’s the twenty-first century, let’s just—“

“Oh come on, Kar, either tell us what it says or give it to me!”

“They don’t make sense,” says Karkat.  He’s sweating.  His hand clenches around a fistful of shirt over his side.  “They’re not—”

Sollux rolls his eyes.  “Look, KK, they can’t apply generally to everyone  _all the time_ , it’s not like they’ve failed you if you can’t find some way to twist it around to fit you.  Just read them aloud before ED has a heart attack.”

“No,” says Karkat.  He’s aware on some distant level that there’s no way he can stop any of them from picking up a second copy of the paper some time today, but at the moment he’s just failing spectacularly to care.

Eridan makes an impatient swipe for the paper and Karkat pulls away so vigorously that he almost falls out of his chair.  He’s so occupied with avoiding Eridan’s grabbing hands, in fact, that he doesn’t notice a ninth visitor entering the room behind him.  And then long, bony arms encircle his shoulders and a sharp jaw settles affectionately on top of his head and he basically flips the fuck out.

In the ensuing confusion, during which Terezi and Vriska start laughing uproariously and Feferi gets very distressed about telling everyone not to fight, Karkat manages to give Gamzee a bloody nose and kick Eridan in the knee.  He also shouts over every other voice in the room, a rant culminating in a vindictive, “And  _don’t_ just randomly hug people from behind!   _GOD!_ ”

“Okay, okay…” says Gamzee, peering sadly over the hand pinching his nose shut.  There’s still a dribble of blood on his upper lip, and it takes Feferi all of thirty seconds to dig a couple of tissues out of her backpack, roll them up, and hand them to Gamzee.  He gives her a huge, slightly bloody smile.  Karkat grumbles wordlessly and turns his back on his roommate.  The horoscope page is momentarily forgotten.

And then Gamzee starts reading them aloud instead, starting from the bottom at first, presumably with whatever ass-backwards reasoning he uses for every other weird thing he’s done.

“P…piksis?   _You were never re…responsible,_ ha, hard word, okay _, you can forgive yourself for leaving_.”

Feferi, who always seems delighted and intrigued by her horoscope, stops smiling abruptly.  She starts to say something, but Gamzee’s still reading aloud, apparently missing the slight shift in the mood of the room.  Over on the blue bed, Vriska turns to Terezi and says something about her birthday.  Terezi whispers,  _“Scorpio, now hush!”_

“Aquarius.”  He pronounces it wrong (ah-kwah-rius), but Eridan perks up immediately.  Karkat finds himself somehow frozen.  Gamzee is about two feet taller than him and he can’t just keep beating the guy up over something like this, everyone else will think he’s—

“ _The man in white had three children.  You’re…lucky he made it_.”

Eridan’s olive-skinned face goes white.  Karkat only registers this peripherally, his mind still racing, trying to figure out a way to change the subject before Gamzee reaches Cancer.

“Can you start from the top?” asks the girl in the red shirt--Aradia--suddenly, leaning over to catch Gamzee’s eye.  “I’m usually first!”

“Oh!  Motherfuckin’ okay!  Okay, Ari…ari-ezz?   _The second drawer down…on the right side of your desk, under the post-it-notes_.”

Aradia stiffens visibly and actually stands up, but then sits slowly back down.  Sollux, who hasn’t looked at her since she came in, gives her a sharp, unreadable glance.

“Taurus:   _Don’t get rid of your last deck.  She’d want you to keep her card._ ”

Gamzee reads so  _painfully_ slowly and Karkat doesn’t know whether it’s because he’s still high or because he’s just a bad reader or both.  But it’s giving him ample amounts of time to watch other people’s reactions, and the more he sees the more he starts to think that he wasn’t the only one who finds today’s messages seriously disturbing.  

Eridan and Feferi keep throwing each other questioning, worried glances and then shaking their heads and looking away again.  Sollux looks ready to stand up himself and say something to the girl in red, but then Gamzee says, “Geminny,” and Sollux’s head whips around.

“ _Was it a fun prank or a cruel joke?  It depends on whether they were passing_.  Heh, that’s funny, it’s like this little question as answers itself…”

Sollux’s eyes go wide.  Gamzee keeps reading, oblivious.  When he reaches Cancer no one even bothers to look at Karkat, all of them lost in the same slightly horrified trance, but it still burns to hear it read aloud.

“ _I’m surprised you came to forgive him.  You still see the scar every day.”_

In his head, Karkat starts ticking off the signs—Eridan and Feferi, who he already knew were Aquarius and Pisces, the girl in red who reacted so badly to Aries…he wasn’t watching when Gamzee mentioned Taurus…and then Sollux is Gemini, Terezi is Libra, and that Vriska girl—Terezi said Scorpio…

“Leo:  _For what it’s worth, she wouldn’t have made it to…_ nat…na-tee-o… _nationals anyway._ And then, aw sweet, this one starts with a V!  Virgo, okay… _I did not ask about you._ ”

No one seems to respond to Leo or Virgo, but then Gamzee starts Libra, and Karkat’s eyes turn inexorably to Terezi. “Libra:  _You should tell someone it’s getting worse.”_

Terezi stops laughing and whispering with her blue-haired friend and becomes completely, scarily straight-faced.

“Scorpio, hey, this one’s another funny little question!  Says,  _it used to be so easy, didn’t it?_ ”

Vriska does the opposite of Eridan and goes bright red.  She opens her mouth to shout, her hands making fists, but Terezi, apparently sensing imminent violence, grapples Vriska back into a sitting position and covers her mouth with one pale, skinny hand.

Karkat keeps his eye on the last boy, the one whose name he never heard, but he’s sitting with his head in one hand and he doesn’t seem to react when Gamzee reads Sagittarius.  He has a little trouble with the sign name, but the room is silent as the grave as he works his way painfully through all five syllables and then announces, “ _Doctor Hitchcock was right.  Don’t be ashamed to ask for help._ ”

“Awright, and this last one is…another super big one, godfuckdamn.  Never actually read it out loud.  Capree.  Corn.  There, okay.   _It’s like you hear his voice in your head…telling you what’s wrong with…you…_ ”

Gamzee trails off, and in the total, extremely uncomfortable silence of the room Karkat can hear his breathing speed up just a little.  In Karkat’s head, something clicks.

“Gamzee,” he says, “are you a Capricorn?”

“I…”  Gamzee is still staring, mouth half-open, at the paper.  He swallows hard, eyes flicking nervously in Karkat’s direction, and mumbles, “Uh, yeah…yeah, that’s all like why I did to come over here, like…  You left that other one on the floor in our room and it said I should do to get out of my room and all…”

He stops again and after another eternity of awkward silence he says, his voice rough, “I gotta go.”

And then he’s gone.  The silence continues, everyone looking fairly miserable and avoiding each other’s eyes, but Karkat feels remarkably cheerful given the situation, riding the adrenaline from hearing the Cancer prediction read aloud.

He’s not crazy!

He was right!

“So I bet you all believe me now!” he says, clapping his hands.  Seven faces turn to look at him, wearing expressions that vary from confusion to exasperation to sheer anger.  He’s too busy chanting  _I told you so_ in his head to care.

“Let me guess,” he says with manic cheer, “you guys all recognized something deeply personal or secret in your horoscope and are wondering how that’s possible!  I have no fucking idea myself but the overall point here is a big shiny  _I was fucking right so suck it_.”

Terezi, unsurprisingly, is the first to respond.  She’s still utterly poker-faced, she says, “Alright, Mister Cherrycheeks, you…you  _might_ be right in thinking there’s something strange going on here.  I suggest we...find someone to help us with our inquiries.”

“We can start with  _Kanaya Maryam_ ,” says Sollux, pointing to the name at the top of the page.  He’s still hard-faced, his thick black eyebrows meeting in a creased V.

Karkat hurries around to peer over Sollux’s shoulder, frowning.  “What, there’s a student writing them?”

“ _Kan_?” says Eridan, staring with blank confusion at the two of them.  “No, there’s gotta be a mistake, she couldn’t have known--”

“You know her?” asks Karkat sharply, staring at him.

Feferi says, more hesitantly than usual, “I…but I know Kanaya too!  She was the leader for my tour group when I came to look at this college for the first time, and she took pictures for an article about swimwear fashion last Summer so we really hit it off and she gave me some romantic advice…  Why would she do something like this?”

“ _How_ could she do something like this, you mean!” says Terezi sharply.  “Unless Maryam has a very extensive spy network on campus and a serious grudge against each of us individually, I see no way she could have contrived such… _personalized_ messages.  We must watch our step.”

“Like hell!” says Vriska, suddenly snapping into action.  “I’ve known her longer than Little Miss Princess here and she wouldn’t pull shit like this on purpose!  Right, Tavros?  Eridan?”

Eridan nods stiffly, obviously loathe to agree with anything Vriska says.  Tavros starts to shrug, then meets his girlfriend’s mismatched eyes and says hurriedly, “Uh, yeah.  She seemed.  Nice.”

“There!” says Vriska.  “She may get into  _literally_ everyone’s business, but fuck you if you think these are from her.  This is getting supernatural, that’s what I think.”

Karkat is about to agree wholeheartedly, but before he can say anything Sollux and Terezi start laughing and Eridan says, “All ‘magic’ can be disproved by pure science, don’t even start with me.” And it all goes to hell.

Karkat listens to everyone argue for about five minutes before coming to the conclusion that no one else is going to step up and make them all be fucking quiet.

His time has come.

“ _Alright, all of you shut the fuck up!_ ” he screams over top of the din.  Instead of doing as he says, the occupants of the room seem to become exponentially louder, although most of them seem to be yelling at him now instead.  Well, at least they're looking at him.  Essentially, this means they’re paying attention.

He tries to yell again but his voice seems to have completely cut out with his previous outburst.  Miraculously, though, everyone else seems to quiet down a bit in an attempt to hear what he’s saying, and Karkat seizes his chance.

“If we’re going to figure this out, we should do it ASAP.  When does the newspaper staff meet?”

“Who says ASAP anymore?” asks Sollux.

“Irrelevant!  Feferi, blue hair girl—”

“My name is  _Vriska_!”

“Can you contact this Kanaya person,  _Ver-iss-kuh_?” Karkat asks, dragging out the syllables of her name with supreme sarcasm.  She flips him off again.

“I’ll do it,” says Feferi, “now please get down off that chair before you fall and hurt yourself!”

Karkat, who hadn’t really registered climbing up to stand on the swivel chair but, now he’s noticed, is rather enjoying being taller than everyone, folds his arms stubbornly.  “Not until we have a plan of action!”

“KK, don’t be stupid and just get off the fucking chair.”

“Yeah,” says the girl Terezi introduced as “Aradia”, speaking up for the first time.  “I’d hate to see you lying on the floor with a broken neck and cranial hemorrhaging!  We only just met!”

“You,” says Karkat, “are fucking creepy.  Has anyone ever told you that?”

But he gets down from the chair, noting as he does so that it’s Sollux’s turn to stare surreptitiously in Aradia’s direction.

God, does everyone in this room know each other except for him?  As soon as they’ve got all this horoscope shit sorted out Karkat Vantas is going to loosen the tangled webs woven by his new “friendgroup”.

But for now…

Feferi tries five times to text Kanaya, with no results.  Not to be deterred, Karkat does a quick search of the school website to find the meeting hours of  _The Illuminator_.  The people who are available during those hours are singled out and a meeting arranged.  And then everyone heads out in the direction of their various dorms and houses to get some sleep.

But not, Karkat notices, before Sollux holds Terezi back in the doorway saying he “needs to ask her something”.   Karkat hangs back as well, hoping against the odds that he’ll be included in this conversation, but Sollux glares at him and eventually he just heads back to his room.

Gamzee is sprawled on his bed in a haze of smoke, his Spanish textbook lying forgotten on the floor nearby, his goat curled up rather forlornly  under one of his limp arms.  Karkat wants to ask whether his sudden return to drug-induced oblivion has something to do with the horoscopes, but he’s afraid that the answer will be yes so he doesn’t.

\--

The newspaper office takes a little finding, given that it shares a little brick building with the counseling faculties, but the name Maryam is on the first door after  _The Illuminator_ ’s conference room.  Karkat reaches for the doorknob but Feferi swats his hand lightly aside with a disapproving look and knocks instead.  Vriska rolls her eyes.

There’s a moment of silence and then a voice from inside says,  _“Hello?”_

“Kanaya?  It’s me, Feferi!  We…we needed to talk to you about something, I’m sorry, I tried to text you but—”

The door opens and Karkat, still standing awkwardly close to it, takes a step back onto Sollux’s foot.  

Kanaya is a tall girl with angular Middle-Eastern features and short, elegantly styled black hair.  She’s also the first person Karkat’s ever met who actually looks good in black lipstick.

“Heeeeeeeey Kanaya,” says Vriska, and Karkat’s ninety-nine percent sure he’s not imagining the flirtatious edge to her voice.  Ignoring it, he holds up the paper in his right hand.

“We’re here about the horoscopes you’ve been writing,” he says.

“Hi, ah, Vriska.  And…the rest of you.”  Kanaya looks nervous, shifting from foot to foot in the doorway of her little office.  “I know they’ve been kind of…inaccurate in the past couple of issues but I promise they should be back to normal as soon as—”

“Actually,” says Vriska, clearly taking pleasure in being the one to drop the bombshell, “we’re visiting you about these par _tic_ ular horoscopes because they’re  _too_ accurate, Miss Fussyface.”

Kanaya stares blankly at Vriska.  “You…?  Vriska?  I wasn’t expecting—which sign…?”

“Scorpio,” says Vriska, flipping her spiky blue-black mane.  “Now…how did you know?”

“I didn’t!” says Kanaya, eyes flicking from one face to the next.  “I don’t know what any of them mean, I just write them down…”

Karkat’s pulse quickens and he pushes forward, staring up at her.  “Wait a fucking second.  You say you’re just the messenger, okay, but who  _does_ know all this stuff?  Who’s telling you what to write?”

She opens her mouth.  Closes it again.  Draws her hands up to her face and glances nervously from Vriska to Karkat.  “So…you both…are all of you…?”

“Kanaya, are you okay?”  Feferi’s forehead is creased, her head on one side.  “You seem like you’re freaking about a bit, do you want to go inside?”

“Yes,” says Kanaya gratefully.   “Yes, I…please, come in!”

The troupe of five shuffles into the office, which is thankfully not as small as it looked through the door.  The fact remains that there’s only one chair, however, and they array themselves awkwardly along the walls—except for Vriska, who seats herself brazenly on Kanaya’s desk.  Sollux crosses his arms over his skinny chest and leans against it instead.

Karkat decides to break the silence first.  “I’m a Cancer,” he says bluntly, and then, gesturing to each of the others in turn, “Feferi’s a Pisces, Sollux is a Gemini, and Vriska is a Scorpio.”

“I told her that already, dumbass!” says Vriska, rolling her eyes.

“What the fuck ever!  The point is, we all ended up in the same room with about three other people who all looked like they’d just heard they had a week to live when my roommate read the…the new horoscopes out loud.  So.  Who’s sending them to you?”

Kanaya takes a long moment before answering, obviously choosing her words carefully.  “…My source has good intentions.  I’m helping her gather together twelve people—she calls them ‘the twelve signs’--for a mission, I just…didn’t think that they’d be so closely clustered together, or that they’d come straight to me.  I confess I’m unprepared…um…”

A mission?

“But who is she?” asks Feferi, looking more worried than ever.  “Kanaya, do you even know who she is?  She’s not blackmailing you, is she?”

“What’s the mission?” asks Karkat, failing to hide his interest.  “Why do we need ‘the twelve signs’?  All of this sounds like something out of a fantasy novel, is this something supernatural?  Why you?”

Feferi gasps reproachfully, wearing the closest thing to a glare he’s ever seen on her face.  “Karkat, I’m sorry, but can’t you be more sensitive?”

“No!” says Karkat, excitement getting the better of him.  “This has everything to do with us, we deserve to know!”

“He’s right,” says Kanaya, smiling faintly at Feferi.  “If a little inconsiderate.”

“Yeah, I know,” Karkat mutters, feeling heat rise to his face.  Now that the fervor of sudden understanding has dimmed a little, embarrassment has begun taking its place.  Kanaya doesn’t seem to have the antagonistic attitude that lets his friends return casual rudeness in kind.

Then she shoots a quick, tentative smile at him too and he manages a kind of awkward grimace in return, and he thinks maybe he didn’t fuck up completely.  At least he believes her.

“In answer to your questions…um, we don’t know why the twelve signs specifically—it seems to simply be part of the requirements for the chosen party.  It is  _definitely_ supernatural.  And as for why she decided to involve me…as well as being on the school paper staff, I’m a Virgo.  The one she’s looking for, I mean.”

“What’s the name of your source?” asks Sollux, suspicion still evident in his voice.  He’s obviously still digging for a logical explanation.

“I…don’t know,” Kanaya admits.

“What’s her phone number?”

“I don’t know.”

“Email address?”

“We don’t communicate by any…traditional means!” says Kanaya, looking both embarrassed and annoyed.  “To be honest, the best word for it is probably magic.”

“Prove it,” says Sollux, arms still tightly folded.

Kanaya swallows hard and says, “…Yes, well.  I suppose that would be the best thing to do at this point.  One moment, please.”

She opens one drawer of her filing cabinet and after a moment’s fumbling inside it, pulls out a large black plastic sphere, almost as big as her hand.  Karkat squints, not understanding, but Vriska laughs out loud.

“Oh, Ka _na_ ya, are you serious?  Is stress getting to you?  I’m gonna lay down some wisdom for you, Miss Fussyface: eight balls are wrong like eight hundred percent of the time.”

“That’s not even a thing,” mutters Sollux.  Vriska glares.  Kanaya, red-faced, doesn’t look at either of them.  Instead, she stares at the window of the eight ball.  Karkat thinks he sees her lips move, and then there’s a moment of silence as she shakes it in a way that suggests she wishes they weren’t all watching her do so.  After a moment, Kanaya breathes in deeply.   Then, on the exhale, she extends the hand holding the eight ball to the group at large.

Karkat reaches for it, but to his surprise Sollux gets there first.  Vriska glares, grasping at it with one hand, but Sollux’s broad palm and flat fingers keep it secure.  After a moment, Vriska lets go with bad grace and settles back on the desk, arms crossed.

“Now what?” asks Sollux.  “Ask a yes or no question?”

“Ask  _any_  question,” says Kanaya simply.  Sollux narrows his eyes at her for a moment, and then focuses on the eight ball instead.

“Is this girl crazy?”

He shakes it, ignoring Feferi’s disapproving swat to the back of his head.  Karkat cranes his neck to see the die surface at the window of the eight ball.

It reads:  _How rude._

Sollux snorts.  “Okay, extra big die, more messages, longer sentences, whatever.  Really cute.”

“You  _are_ being rude, though,” Feferi mutters.  Sollux, looking slightly chagrined, glances up at Kanaya and mutters,  _“Sorry.”_

“Just keep asking questions,” she says, sounding slightly chilly.

“Fine.  What is pi to twenty-two digits?”

He shakes the ball again, and Karkat has to squint to pick out the cramped little words on the blue die.

It reads:  _thats hellsa wicked irrelevant, dude._

Unexpectedly, Sollux laughs and shakes again.  “What the hell was that, mysterious magical source?”

_An insufferable prick._

“ _An insufferable prick_ ,” says Vriska.  She laughs too and says, “Alright, I’ll read the answers from now on, quit crowding already!”

Karkat rolls his eyes but sits back anyway, leaning against the wall with Feferi.  “Fine, but he better start asking some decent questions soon, or I’m gonna take the fucking thing.”

“Wow, ever hear of waiting your turn, KK?  Alright, mysterious _magical_ source, how do you know all these things about us?”

“ _I’m a seer._ ”

“Right.  So, magic is real, huh?”

“ _You tell me._ Smug bitch.”

In the corner of his eye, Karkat catches sight of Kanaya’s hands clenching on her knees.  Interesting.  Now he comes to think about it, haven’t the horoscopes for Virgo consistently been kind of…complimentary?

“So what’s this mission you want us for?”

“ _When Cancer has found the rest of the signs…_ shake it again, I think there’s more.  Yeah,  _the messages will lead you there._   Hmph.”

“And that’s seriously all you’re going to tell us?”

“ _You will continue to search and the answers will come to you._ ”

“This is giving us literally nothing,” says Sollux, “and I never use the word literally figuratively.”

Vriska leans over, making a grabby hand at the eight ball, and Sollux jerks it away, looking affronted.

“Come on, nerd, shake it again!  The die vanished, I think she has something else to say.”

“Don’t call me nerd, nerd,” Sollux snaps, but shakes the eight ball anyway.  They both stare at the window for a moment before Vriska speaks again.

“ _These are not ‘if-then’ statements…_ shake it ag—yeah, okay.   _They are simply the truth about the future…_ Aaaaaaaand there’s more.   _You WILL find your answers shortly._ Capital letters on the ‘WILL’ just in case we didn’t pick up on how  _true_ it is because  _magic_.”

Sollux tries a few more questions, but there’s no reply.  Apparently, Kanaya’s source feels she’s said all that needs to be said.  He hands it back to her, looking even more disgruntled than usual.

“…So that’s it.  Just keep looking and we’ll find out?  And we need twelve people not just to be in the same place but to be convinced we’re telling the truth  _and_ willing to go on some stupid mystery mission?  Sounds like a fucking cakewalk, sign me up!”

Kanaya frowns. “But…from what you said before, it seems as though you’re only missing two.”

“Yeah, Sagittarius and Leo,” says Sollux.  “But, okay,  _KK_ has to find them?  Are you telling me your mysterious  _source_ can’t just let us know what their names are?  It’s already giving you  _really_ fucking personal information about all the rest of us, it has to know!”

“ _She_ ,” says Kanaya with a kind of tremulous dignity, “can only do so much.  She doesn’t know exactly _who_ any of the Signs are, except…me.  Her insight tells her what needs to be written, not what it means or who it applies to.  That’s just how her magic works.”  She pauses, flushing a little again, and then coughs nervously.  Thankfully, Sollux doesn’t take the opportunity to make a snide comment.

In fact it’s Feferi who speaks up.  She hasn’t stopped looking troubled throughout the whole conversation, and now she steps forward again to put a hand on Kanaya’s shoulder.  “But…didn’t you say you were getting complaints?  Like, sent to the paper?”

Sollux snorts.  “Oh come on FF, that’s not even—“

“Hey, back off, mister!” snaps Feferi, and Sollux instantly shuts his mouth, looking chagrined.  “If they shut down your column, won’t that make it harder to spread the horoscopes around and find the last people?”

“Maybe,” says Kanaya, and the snarky indifference in her voice makes Karkat think maybe there’s more to her than the nervousness they’ve seen thus far.  “They’re only going to get weirder from here on out, believe me…the club president is already asking questions.  And because there aren’t any comprehensive answers I can give, he thinks I’m just being… _silly_.”  The last word is filled with enough disdain for at least three resentful queens.  Karkat decides he likes her.

Feferi nods, her mouth set in a firm line.  “So we don’t have that much time left.”

“According to the eight ball, that’s not a problem,” says Sollux, but with rather less cynicism than he might generally use.  “So, we just keep looking and it’ll all come to us?”

“That’s what she said,” says Kanaya.  “And she hasn’t been wrong so far.”


	3. Study Group

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The goat becomes significant; rugby becomes relevant; with the completion of the set of twelve, new information is revealed; Karkat makes a speech.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Only two more chapters! Golly these things are long. I usually do 5k-6k chapters but I guess for some reason I decided to split it up into sets of 10k this time? Go figure.

It takes a lot of explaining, even more arguing, and a second meeting with Kanaya that Thursday to convince everyone else.  Gamzee, of course, goes along with it unquestioningly.  Aradia is fascinated and poses several theories about Kanaya’s source, most of which involve ghosts.  Terezi won’t believe the eight ball is showing the answers they’re reading until someone asks Kanaya’s source for another personal “horoscope” about Terezi and the eight ball turns up something about her mother and she goes very, very still again.

But convincing the ten people they’ve already found is the least of their concerns.  How in the fuck, Karkat wonders, are they supposed to find a specific Sagittarius and Leo on a college campus?  Even with the papers circulating, there’s no guarantee that the last two people read the horoscopes or even  _The Illuminator_.  On a spectrum, it’s closer to  _The Inquirer_ than  _The New York Times_.

Some of the more personable members of their group volunteer to share the papers with their friends and keep an ear out for anyone mentioning how weird the horoscopes are, and Feferi suggests starting a trend about it on Twitter.  In the end, though, the weekend passes and the next week starts with no new discoveries.

\--

Film History is a Friday evening thing, so of course everyone whose conscience will let them watch the assigned movies outside of class is missing.  The arrangement of the room is the theater/coliseum style favored by courses that need seating for over 200 people, with cushioned seats that fold up when no one’s sitting in them.  

Karkat settles grumpily into a random chair—something he does in every class just to piss people off--and pulls today’s paper out of his backpack.  He has about five minutes before the teacher shows up and continues to be demoralized by the sparsely populated classroom.

_AQUARIUS: Wait._

_PISCES:  Wait._

_ARIES:  She will come to you._

_TAURUS: She will come to you._

_GEMINI: Wait._

_CANCER: Feel free to share._

_LEO: Take a break from practice this evening to talk to other people who share your interests.  Highest Compatibility: Sagittarius_

_VIRGO: Your work is done.  Thank you._

_LIBRA: She will come to you._

_SCORPIO: She will come to you._

_SAGITTARIUS: It’s time to take steps and address issues you’ve been avoiding.  At some point you must speak your mind.  Do not be afraid of yourself._

_CAPRICORN: Wait._

He glares down at the page, willing it to somehow become more helpful than it is.  When he looks up, he finds himself face-to-face with a girl.

In fact, it’s  _the_ girl—the one who he occasionally sees watching him across the room in this class.  He swallows hard, tightening his lips on a “what the fuck do you want” and forcing himself to replace it with a, “Hello…?”

“Hey!” she says.  “Is that the paper?”

“Um, horoscopes,” he mutters.  Time to shove it into his backpack and make blunt smalltalk until she…

The Cancer prediction catches his eye.  He breathes out slowly through his nose.  She vaults, inelegant but athletic, over the seats in front of him, and settles down in the seat next to him.  Karkat, unused to being so close to people he doesn’t know, resists the urge to move over a seat.

“They’re really weird today,” he warns.  “What sign are you?”

“Leo,” says the girl promptly.  “I love cats, so I was really happy to find that out when I was a kid!”

_Leo._

“It says you’re compatible with Sagittarius,” says Karkat, his heart beating faster.  A Leo and a Sagittarius!  Well, there’s no guarantee she’s the right Leo—he’ll have to ask some careful questions to check.  But given the serendipitous way everything else has fallen together, he’s hopeful.

“Which one are you?” asks the girl, leaning a little closer to see.  Karkat pulls back quickly, alarmed by her sudden proximity, but she doesn’t seem to notice.

“Uh, Cancer,” he mutters. She tips her head to either side in a noncommittal “well you take what you get” kind of way.

“What’s your name?” Karkat asks, for once preferring to make small talk.

“Oh!  Right, I’m Nepeta Leijon.”  They shake hands kind of awkwardly and Karkat forces himself not to wince at the pressure of her grip.  Everything about her is intense.

“Karkat Vantas,” says Karkat.  He’s about to ask whether she happens to have any friends with a certain zodiac sign when the teacher strides in looking harassed and bangs his bag down on the table.  Nepeta rushes back to her group of friends with a grin and a hasty goodbye, leaving Karkat to stew in his questions for the next hour.

Karkat is usually an active student in this class, which is one of the few he’s actually good at, but today it’s impossible to concentrate.  He takes maybe ten or twenty words of notes, most of which make no sense to him when he looks back over them after the early dismissal of the class.

Well, whatever.  He can just badger one of his classmates into sharing their notes with him.

Speaking of which…

Nepeta usually leaves with a crowd of friends, and for a moment Karkat thinks she’s totally forgotten about the conversation they were having.  To his relief, however, he manages to catch her eye.  She smiles brightly at him, waves off friendly invitations to dinner, and wanders over.

“So, do you know anyone who  _might_ be the Sagittarius it’s talking about?” he prompts, holding up the paper for her examination.  It’s not the most subtle of approaches, but he’s never really been known for his subtlety.

She gives him an odd look.  “It doesn’t have to be a specific person, that’d be kind of silly!  Although I guess if I thought about the birthdays of people I know I might be able to…”

“But you have a fuckton of friends,” says Karkat, his heart sinking.  “What about people you’ve been  _thinking_ about making friends with?  Or just…people you know, I guess.  I mean, if you’re already friends with someone you already know you’re kind of compatible anyway, right?”

She narrows her eyes at him and tilts her head to one side.  “You take these really seriously, don’t you?”

“Fuck yeah,” says Karkat unabashedly.  “So is there anyone you can think of?”

Nepeta swats a section of pages in her notebook back and forth, reminding Karkat unavoidably of a cat batting at a new toy.  “Well…hm…  There’s a guy on my team who no one really likes ‘cuz he’s kind of gross and sweaty and snobby and doesn’t talk to anyone…”

“Okay?”

“…and I’ve been trying to make friends with him.”

“What?  Why?”

“Be _cause_ he’s gross and sweaty and no one likes him!  Plus the other day he told me the best way to clean my jersey, and he tells me not to swear sometimes, and it’s kind of cute.”

“Sounds bossy,” says Karkat.  “I still don’t get it.  Is he a Sagittarius?”

“I don’t know his birthday.   _You’re_ bossy!” Nepeta tells him cheerfully.  “Haven’t you ever wanted to return the favor to someone who’s nice to you?”

“In my book a couple instances of niceness don’t overrule ‘gross’, ‘sweaty’, or ‘snobby’.  Or even bossy because, yeah, okay, I like being the only bossy guy in the room.”

She gives him a slow, oddly knowing smile and Karkat feels instantly uncomfortable.

He leaves pretty fast after that.  It doesn’t seem like there’s really that much else to ask about; he felt like he was pushing his luck as it was.   And she actually seemed to want to be friends with him, for whatever mysterious reason…he feels just a little bit like a heel for not even saying “see you next week” or something to her as he wanders back to his dorm in the misty fall evening.  On his way through the dining hall, he grabs an apple without really thinking about it and drops it on Gamzee’s now-vacant bed.  Then he stops, considers the sight of the lonely green fruit, and starts digging through his backpack again.

When Gamzee wanders in with a skateboard under his arm and the little bicolored goat trotting at his heels, Karkat’s already fast asleep in bed.  There’s a note next to the apple which reads, “TAKE CARE OF YOURSELF, ASSHOLE.”

Gamzee gives his roommate’s back a huge dimpled smile and puts the note away, unfolded, in his desk drawer.  Then he splits the apple with his goat.

\--

Terezi turns her head idly as the rugby team jogs past the small lawn where the little group of roleplayers is seated, “watching” the blurs of Altruss State’s purple uniforms as they bob rhythmically by.  The weather is good and they can’t start until Eridan arrives, so they’ve opted for a little time out on the grass.  The rugby players provide an idle distraction.

They jog past here every evening around the time the D&D Club meets, so their presence is hardly unexpected.  What  _is_ unexpected is the detachment of one of the purple blurs from the rest of the group and its subsequent approach.  Terezi tilts her head, exercising all her senses, but it’s not until the short, stocky figure speaks that she identifies the voice as possibly female.

“Hey!” says the rugby player cheerfully.  “I used to RP in high school, do you guys want to play with my fursona?”

Terezi expects Vriska to scoff at the word “fursona”, but her issue seems to be more with the unexpected arrival than her RPing preferences.  “And who are you?” she says, displeasure evident in her voice.

“Nepeta Leijon!  I play scrumhalf,” says the newcomer, dropping to the grass next to Terezi.  “I see you guys sitting here every time we run past and I thought I’d just check it out!”

“Oh  _really_?” says Vriska.  “And why exactly were we lucky enough to be graced with your company today?”

“Well, the horoscope this cute boy in my class gave me said to talk to people who like the things I do, so—“

Nepeta stops talking almost as abruptly as everyone else goes oddly still.  She seems to have immediately noticed the change in atmosphere, a quality Terezi doesn’t often notice in people other than herself.

“Guys?” says Nepeta.  She sounds both curious and nervous, which, coincidentally, matches the mood of her new company.

Terezi clears her throat.  “This…’cute boy’, did he have white hair and red cheeks?”

“You know Karkat?” asks Nepeta, and then makes a little flustered noise and lowers her head.  It’s hard to tell, but Terezi would guess she’s blushing.

“Don’t worry, we won’t mention it to him!” Terezi tells her cheerfully, giving the rest of the group a surreptitious glare that says,  _we won’t,_ will  _we, guys?_

Fortunately, even if Vriska had been interested in teasing Nepeta about her painfully obvious crush, she’s obviously even more interested in finding out whether Nepeta’s one of their missing Signs.

“Are you a Leo or a Sagittarius?” she asks.  Terezi stares incredulously at her, momentarily speechless in the face of such an unsubtle approach.

Nepeta scoots forward a little and leans in.  When she speaks, her voice is tense with excitement.  No need to worry, apparently.

“What’s going on?  Is this some kind of…conspiracy?”

“So you  _are_!” says Vriska.  Terezi can hear the smile in her voice.

“Yes, I’m a Leo!”

“Well, there’s one really good way to tell whether you’re the person we’re looking for!”

Vriska, who’s had the fateful edition of the paper in her backpack ever since Gamzee read it aloud, pulls it out and clears her throat.  Terezi, spotting immediately what her friend is planning, makes a pass for it and manages, surprisingly, to get a good enough grip to pull it from Vriska’s hands.

“Perhaps she should read it to herself,” she says sweetly, and Vriska tosses her head.  She’s probably rolling her eyes.  Terezi’s gotten the impression she does that a lot.

They wait with more suspense than three other people waiting for a fourth to read the paper usually creates.  After the first few seconds, Terezi thinks maybe Nepeta just isn’t the person they’re looking for, but then she gasps and Terezi thinks,  _Ah.  She was reading all the ones before hers._

“So you  _are_ who we’re looking for!” says Vriska, and Terezi can hear the triumphant grin in her voice.

Tavros, apparently rather more unnerved by the idea of giving the most upsetting horoscopes thus far to a newcomer, says, “Um, you’re not going to, well, leave, or anything, are you?  It’s just, we’re not playing a mean trick or anything, except, we can’t really prove that unless you meet the person who’s writing the…predictions.”

Nepeta gives the paper a closer look.  Terezi notes that she seems tenser than before, but hasn’t shown any sign of wanting to leave.  That’s good.

“Kanaya…Maryam,” Nepeta murmurs.  “But I didn’t know anyone named…”

“Yes, that’s about how everyone else reacted to these,” says Terezi ruefully.  “And Tavros and Karkat used to live quite far away from here.  I hate to say it aloud, but there are supernatural forces in play here and we  _do_ have proof.  But not with us at this moment.”

Nepeta sits still without speaking for quite a while.  Tavros keeps glancing at Aradia as the pause stretches on and on.  They are probably worried glances, Terezi decides.  Vriska, meanwhile, is fidgeting with impatience.

The relative silence is broken not by Nepeta, but by Aradia’s phone.  The ringtone starts off subtle and hardly noticeable—a pulsing, synthesized beat—and then, as the vocals kick in ( _“’Cause the world might—“_ ), she starts and digs in her pocket.

 _“Mangandang gabi_!” she says cheerfully, and then, “Oh, it’s you!  I didn’t check, I thought my parents had forgotten I’m busy on Friday evenings again.  What’s up?”

The rest of the group listens, bemused, to the series of vague “Oh”s and “Uh-huh”s and “Alright then”s that are the mark of a purely informative phone call.

Then, finally, she says,  “Well, see you later then!” and closes her cell.

Everyone else, even Nepeta, stares unabashedly, waiting for an explanation.

“Eridan says he’s not coming,” Aradia announces, putting her phone back in her pocket.  “But before you all despair and leave, remember I’ve been waiting to play DM for a whole semester!  I have the cutest little adventure planned.”

Tavros squints at her, raising one questioning hand.  “Okay, so, when you say  _cute_ like that I’m pretty sure it means, no offense, that there will be a lot of skeletons and, uh, death.  Which, I mean, is okay!  But…we’re already in the middle of an entirely different campaign.”

“It’s only supposed to take an hour or two!  And this way Nepeta can play…how about it?”

“What about all that horoscope stuff, though?” asks Nepeta, obviously feeling unbalanced by the sudden change of subject.

“It’s kind of like Tavros said,” says Aradia sheepishly.  “We don’t have much real evidence on hand.  It seems like we need twelve people to go on a magical mission…somewhere.  But we don’t have details, really!  It seems like we’re supposed to find them after we’ve got all twelve signs together, which we don’t yet.  If you aren’t too weirded out, you could play for a couple hours and get to know us a little better.  How about it?”

Nepeta sits back and rubs her eyes with the heels of both hands.  “Well…”

“It  _is_ , I agree, pretty weird,” says Tavros.  “But you know, it would be nice, just to have a fifth person, and, you seem pretty nice—ow—“

Vriska moves fast, but Terezi isn’t was practically expecting the swift elbow to Tavros’s arm, and the way Vriska takes over the conversation after that.  It starts getting darker and colder in fairly short order, and Eridan still hasn’t shown any sign of changing his mind, so they head inside to start the game.

Nepeta’s presence makes for a slightly more informal game than usual, despite Vriska and Terezi’s best efforts to inject a little gravity into the adventure.  Aradia’s story is one of pitch-black booby-trapped crypts and creeping skeletons, but far from taking the situations seriously, as Eridan does, she describes them with light-hearted enjoyment.

At the end of the night, when all the puzzles have been solved and the traps have been sprung and several kobolds have been slain, Nepeta somehow acquires everyone’s phone numbers--even Vriska’s.  This surprises even Terezi, who prides herself on her ability to predict others’ actions.

Nepeta also leaves with the paper, promising to look for the final piece to their puzzle.

“It’s not like there’s any guarantee she’ll find them, though,” says Vriska, who still seems somewhat bemused by the fact that she willingly gave Nepeta her number _and_ the paper.  “You should all keep an eye out as well.”

“Yeah, maybe,” says Tavros, with his passive brand of diplomacy.  “I thought she was pretty cool, though…”

“ _Cool_?”  Vriska grimaces and shrugs.  “She was alright, I guess.  A bit cutesy for my tastes, but fun to play with.  She’d better not try and cut in on the campaign we’ve got going, though.  I was halfway through kicking that giant scorpion’s venomous ass.”

\--

Nepeta thinks it over during practice.

She’s gone down her contacts list several times--all 93 of them--and checked their birthdays against the range for Sagittarius, and although some of them fit the criteria, none of them react to the horoscope message on the paper Terezi gave her last night.  So far as she knows, none of her teammates have birthdays coming up in the next few months either, but...she doesn’t know  _everyone’s_ birthday.

While she’s pulling on her shorts and putting tape over her ear piercings, she considers her options.  There are the freshman, of course--she hasn’t gotten to know them yet.  And, well, maybe she’s a little messed up on the birthdays of some of her other teammates…

Oh, and there’s Equius.

But Equius doesn’t talk to anyone before practice.  Or during warmups.  Or ever, really, if he can help it.  It’s not that he just ignores people flat-out, but he seems to minimize any conversation initiated with him.  Most of the team has given up on treating him to any of the usual good-natured insults or roughhousing that they all partake in daily.

Maybe, Nepeta thinks later, waiting by the scrum for someone to hook the ball, if they’d try talking to him  _differently_ , they’d get along better with him.  Maybe they just feel cheated, somehow?  Because he looks like a total jock but doesn’t really act like one outside games?

And then there’s a flash of white and she follows the ball’s flight through the forest of jostling legs, and there’s nothing but quick steps and quick breaths and the split-second search for an open teammate to pass to.

Many bruising tackles, one ten-minute lecture from Coach about staying calm under pressure, and a game of tag later, Nepeta staggers happily off the field with everyone else.  A couple big, friendly hands clap her on the back and someone says, “Nice sidestepping, Leijon!”  She gives the guy in question a friendly hip check.

Then Coach reads announcements for the day and Nepeta ducks into the little bathroom to change, more for the boys’ comfort than hers.  She changes out of her sweat-soaked sports bra and into something a little tighter, then drags on her favorite Hello Kitty T-shirt and green flannel jacket.

Equius is the last one in the locker room when she comes hopping out with her jeans still flopping around her feet, and only glances up at her for a moment before immediately looking back down again, his face reddening slightly.  Nepeta wonders for a moment whether this is some kind of crush thing, but then decides it’s probably more likely that he’s just generically embarrassed.

Equius Zahhak is a big, white boy whose face shows the signs of teenage acne that was improperly handled.  No one on the team seems inclined to tease him about this or his sweating problem—though after the first hour of practice almost everyone on the team is usually dripping.

Now, though, in the coolness of the empty locker room, she can still see beads of moisture on his nose and forehead.  She grabs her bag from the floor by her locker, picks up a clean white towel from a bench, and advances in his direction, waving energetically.

“Equius!  Hey!  When’s your birthday?”

He looks up at her again, brow furrowing instantly, but his arms are still relaxed and open, a water bottle hanging from his hands.  “...I don’t want any gifts.”

“Oh!  Well, that’s okay then, because I’m not asking so I can give you one!  I didn’t even know you had a birthday coming up...but it is, right?”

He looks blankly up at her, big shoulders twitching in what could be an assenting shrug.  Good enough.

“Well,” she says, coaxingly, “Is your birthday somewhere between November 22nd and December 22nd?”

“Yes,” he says, narrowing his eyes.  He’s probably about to ask...well,  _tell_  her to explain.  Well, alright, then…

Nepeta reaches into her bag.

“Okay,” she says, handing him the horoscope paper, “this might freak you out a little or it might not, depending.”

“Depending on what?” he asks, glancing at her as he lifts his sunglasses to look at the page.

Nepeta purses her lips in thought, then says, “…On whether it’s you who’s supposed to read it!”

“Leijon,” he says, “you’re starting to sound ridiculous.”

“We’ll see about that!  Just read the one for Sagittarius, okay?”

He gives her another skeptical look, but lifts the paper to his face and starts to read.

When his hands start to shake and sweat, Nepeta hands him the towel and says, “…Okay, can I try and explain?”

\--

“Are you’re  _sure_ she’s the right person?” asks Eridan.  He’s sitting on one of Sollux’s beds, his long legs extended, ankles crossed.  Sollux, already disgruntled to have everyone in his room again, glares at him.

“The…the  _bad_ horoscope page meant something to her,” says Tavros.  “That’s good enough for me.”

“Hmmmm,” says Eridan.

Kanaya, who has tactfully avoided making any comments about Sollux’s bicolored décor but winced visibly upon seeing his room for the first time, looks up from the magic eight ball.  “The odds are very good that it’s her.  After all, all of you came together on your own.  My source calls it ‘paradoxical serendipity’.”

Aradia glances at her curiously.  “You mean like a time paradox?”

“I don’t know,” says Kanaya, and her voice takes on that tone of rueful resignation that turns up when she has to admit to ignorance.  Karkat suspects she’s afraid they’ll give up on the endeavor if her “source” fails too often to provide them with answers.

“Well, if we’re close to finding everyone, I’m sure we’ll find more out soon!” says Feferi reassuringly.  “I mean, if the girl Karkat met is even—“

“Hello!”

Ten heads turn to look at the door, where Nepeta is smiling in at all of them with absolutely no sign of apprehension.  Karkat finds himself impressed; forward as he is, even he would have been somewhat perturbed by the sight of ten silently staring strangers.

Fortunately, Feferi breaks the silence after only a couple of seconds.  “Oh, well hello!  You must be Nepeta!  You can sit next to me if you want!”

“Aw, thanks!  But, okay, look--I think I found your Sagittarius,” says Nepeta, and leans back out the door to speak to someone standing, unseen, in the hallway beyond.  “Come on, I promise they’re friendly!  The ones I met were, anyway.”

A light male voice, slightly muffled through the wall, says, “I don’t think—“ and then Nepeta vanishes for a moment, reappearing with one beefy arm clamped in both hands.

“You said you would come!” she says admonishingly.  “And at least see what they had to say, that’s what you said.  You can leave any time if you’re uncomfortable, but—“

“I am already uncomfortable,” says the newcomer, who is truly massive.  Karkat gapes up at him until a gentle swat from Kanaya brings him back down to earth and he looks over to see her glaring at him.

Right.  Polite.

Tavros catches Nepeta’s eye as she enters with the big guy and says quietly, “So, did you show him—“

“She did,” says the guy, not especially sharply but with a finality that makes Tavros shut his mouth immediately and avert his eyes.

“Equius!”

“Nepeta,” says Equius, obviously unimpressed by her chiding tone of voice.

Nepeta sighs and points to the chair next to her, settling herself down next to Feferi on one of the beds.

“Well,” she says, “I’m listening!”

Introductions are lengthy and full of conversation starters from Nepeta that have to be consistently curtailed.  By the time Kanaya has finished the same demo with the magic eight ball she’s already given twice and answered several serious questions from Equius, delivered in a distinctly doubtful tone of voice, everyone else is more than ready to move on.

“Do you believe it  _now_?” asks Karkat, watching Equius with one foot tapping rapidly.  “We’d kind of like to ask Kanaya some questions that haven’t actually been addressed three times over.”

Equius glares at him.  “I agree that there is...difficult to refute, in the circumstances, but   Has she told you all  _why_ this is happening yet?”

“There’s a mission we’re meant to undertake,” says Kanaya.  “We can’t tell anyone about it because we’re the only ones who can do it.  Also, if we succeed we’ll…essentially be saving everyone, so I think that’s an important side effect.”

“Everyone like who?” asks Vriska suspiciously.  “Like…all of us?”

Kanaya fidgets.  “Well, yes, among others.”

“Like how many others?” Karkat asks, although he has a growing sense of premonition about the answer.  “The college?  The state?  The country?”

“Um…more like…the world.   Possibly the universe.  I didn’t want to put any pressure on you but that’s it, really.  It’s kind of important.”

“Mother _fuck_ ,” says Gamzee, looking awed.

“You have a talent for understatement, “ Terezi tells her, massaging one temple.  “Really?  The whole world?”

Kanaya nods mutely and pauses as the room fills with low mutters and worried stares.  Even Eridan, professional skeptic, looks a little unnerved.  Equius makes a disgruntled little “hm” noise.  Tavros is holding his head, grinding the heels of his hands into his forehead.

Kanaya, seeming to sense the unrest in her comrades, says hurriedly, “The last pieces have yet to fall into place...you can decide after the final messages have been delivered whether you want to act on my source’s advice!  Up until now the horoscopes have focused on bringing us together, but I think soon we’ll find out exactly what we’re supposed to do, so...you can decide then.”

She trails off a little at the end, then straightens and tightens her mouth as though daring anyone to object.  Karkat half-expects someone to scoff, but Vriska just looks intrigued, Eridan is obviously still trying to take it all in, and Equius, though scowling, stays silent.

There doesn’t seem to be much to be said on the subject after that.  Everyone exchanges numbers at Nepeta’s suggestion, and to Karkat’s surprise Equius is the first to agree, although he does explain this by asserting that he “wants to keep track of all of them”.

“Yeah, because  _that’s_ not creepy at all,” mutters Sollux, entering his number on Equius’s phone.  “Next!  C’mon, I want you all out of my room as soon as possible so I can take some Advil and sleep for a week.” Aradia giggles, catching his eye, and for a moment they stop and look at each other, all crooked smiles and secret jokes.  Aradia opens her mouth to say something...and shuts it.

And then the moment is gone and Karkat is left with the  _what the fuck_ feeling he gets every time the two of them interact.  Tavros is watching Aradia with his teeth worrying at his lower lip, and he’s not the only one looking.  Equius hands her his phone with his eyes firmly fixed on her face, nodding mutely as she makes an entry for her name and number.

On the other bed, Feferi leans over to whisper something in Nepeta’s ear and Nepeta says, “I completely feel the same!  You might officially be my favorite Zodiac Mystery Kid right now.”

Feferi laughs out loud, making everyone within a couple feet of her wince, and Eridan gives her a nervous little glance.

It takes an ungodly amount of time for everyone who hasn’t already shared numbers to do so.  Karkat’s surprised Gamzee even has a cell phone, but less surprised to find that there are no names in his contacts list.  He would, he tells himself, have offered to swap numbers if he’d known the guy had a phone.  Yeah.

Well, alright, maybe he wouldn’t have.  Not before now.   _Definitely_ not when they first met.  So what changed?

He’s drawn out of his wondering by the appearance of Nepeta, offering her phone to him with a smile that’s not quite wide enough to disguise her nerves.  “Just in case we need to get in touch for this stuff or any other reason!” she says, a little breathlessly.

“...Yeah,” Karkat mumbles, and since there’s nothing else for it, he hands her his own phone.  She takes it almost reverently, which he thinks is more alarming even than if she’d giggled or blushed.

She’s  _nice_ , he supposes, it’s just…

It’s just…

“It’s just, I’ve never  _had_ someone crushing on me before,” he explains to Eridan later, leaning against the wall outside Sollux’s room.  “And I know literally fuck-all about her.  It’s kind of freaking me out.”

Eridan glances morosely back at Room 222, where Sollux and Feferi are probably still holding hands and talking about school and stress and being egregiously sappy.  “‘S not worth it,” he mutters.  “Girls, I mean.  Y’know, they can act real nice an’  _you_ can act real nice but in the end you got like a sixty percent chance of endin’ up in the friendzone.  Shouldn’t even bother.”

Karkat frowns, thinking this over.  “...That isn’t even remotely fucking close to being what I’m worried about here.”

“Hm?”

“I  _said_ ,” Karkat grinds out, “that’s not even a real answer to what I was saying.  You’re just off in your own little world while I’m trying to figure out what the hell to do about Nepeta, alright?”

Eridan snorts, unimpressed.   “Yeah, well, you’re lucky.  What the hell, go out with her, maybe it’ll work out, who even fuckin’ knows.  Not this guy.”

“Oh my god,” Karkat snaps, pushing himself away from the wall.  “Just stand there and marinate in self-pity, why don’t you?  I’d be better off talking to  _Gamzee_.”

“Kar, hang--”

But Karkat’s already shut the door, and after a couple moments someone walks past with angry, stomping footsteps.  Well, whatever.

“Best friend?”

Karkat turns around, looks down at Gamzee, who’s already sprawled on his bed with the goat on his belly, and lets some of the tension go out of him.  It’s not like it’s hard to stay angry around Gamzee--he’s both infuriating and confusing--but when you actually think about telling him that, it doesn’t really seem worth it.  It would be like kicking a puppy.

“What’s up?” says Gamzee, squinting up at Karkat as though trying to read his mind.  “You look like trouble, bro.”

Karkat opens his mouth.  Shuts it.  Grimaces and sits down on Gamzee’s bed, sighing.  “...Yeah, well.  Don’t I fucking always.  I don’t suppose you know anything about dealing with someone who’s got a crush on you.”

It’s not exactly a rewarding conversation; Gamzee, of course, gives the actual most inane romantic advice possible.  But at least it gives Karkat some answers  _not_ to use, which is a starting point in its own right, and it takes his mind off of the awareness of something looming on the horizon.  Something they have to save the world from.

\--

“Feferi!  Feferi, hey!”

Nepeta’s a quick runner, but she can hardly keep up with Feferi when both of them are walking.  There’s something about the other girl’s lively gait that moves her forward faster than any speedwalking mall shopper.  Her hair bounces as she turns around, looking back with wide, gray-blue eyes.

“Hold up!” says Nepeta, jogging the last couple steps.  “I heard you say you were going to take the AATA 2 to your place, and I need to get on that line too, so we should ride together!”

They chatter all the way down the stairs and out into the early night, unperturbed by the fact that Nepeta likes rugby while Feferi likes swimming, or that they have a few differing OTPs in what fandoms they share.  By the time they reach the bus stop, conversation has subsided into a friendly, somewhat giggly lull.

They’ve only been waiting there for a minute before Aradia, Tavros, and Kanaya emerge from the building and stand with them in the growing darkness.  Somewhere in the darkness, one of the last crickets of the year chirps forlornly--the perfect soundtrack for the awkward silence.

Nepeta is usually the first to break the ice in such situations, but surprisingly it’s Kanaya who speaks.

“So...how did I do?”

“What do you mean?” says Aradia, raising her eyebrows.  “Should we be grading you on presentation or…?”

Kanaya gives a little half-amused half-exasperated snort.  “I just mean, do you really believe me?  I know some of you must just be playing along because you want to know more…”

“Oh, not me!” says Feferi earnestly.  “I mean, I’ve always believed in horoscopes anyway, and you gave us plenty of proof!  It’s kind of scary, but also...really exciting!”

“Oh, absolutely,” says Aradia.  “Don’t you think so, Tavros?”

Tavros jumps a little then says hurriedly, “Oh.  Uh, yeah, well, kind of.  More of the first thing, that Feferi said, and, less of the exciting part.  A lot less, probably, sorry.  I do believe you though, I think.”

“Not at all,” says Kanaya, giving him a reassuring, if somewhat tremulous, smile.  “I find it all quite intimidating myself.  I’m glad to hear you find my story at least somewhat credible, though.”

“You don’t seem like you’d lie!” Nepeta chirps.

“And if you’re having delusions, then all of us are too,” Aradia adds conscientiously.  “Which is pretty improbable, don’t you think?”

“I...yes, I suppose,” says Kanaya weakly.  Tavros smiles awkwardly, looking from her to Aradia.

“...She says stuff like that, sometimes,” he says.

“It’s alright!” says Feferi, eager as ever to keep the peace.  “Everyone’s different!  We just need to get to know each other better.”

“And then my morbid interests will start to seem less peculiar?” asks Aradia brightly.

There’s a pause.

“So, you and Sollux!” says Nepeta, wiggling her eyebrows at Feferi.  Aradia’s eyes widen and quickly, she turns away and starts up a quiet conversation with Tavros about something roleplay-related.

“I met him at a concert over the Summer!  He said it was the last show from Scalemate he was going to see because they were getting too popular for his tastes, and I was like,  _oh, I did_ not  _just hear you say that_ , and we got in this huge fight about it and it went on so long that we had to go get lunch together!  He’s cute when he’s grumpy, so,  _literally_ all the time.”

Nepeta squeals, tightening her grip on the bus stop pole with a kind of one-armed hug of enthusiasm.  “Oh, that’s so  _perfect_!  I could totally see that!  Did you start dating right after, or…?”

“Well--”  Feferi pauses, then says slowly, “Not... _right_ after?  I didn’t know how my parents would feel about it.  They still don’t know I’m dating anyone.  Or that I’m planning on joining the swimming club...”

Kanaya nods understandingly.  “Oh, I know how that goes.  Just remember, these are your years!  And if you want to, it can also be the perfect time to...well, change yourself.”

Feferi gives her an adoring look.  “Aw, thanks Kanaya!  You always give the best advice!  About life  _and_ about mysterious magical adventures!”

“I certainly try to do my best in both of those areas,” says Kanaya, and then sighs as she leans out to look for the headlights of the bus on the dim, winding road.  “...But it’s hard, and sometimes I think nobody really understands what’s going on here.  Possibly not even my source.”

Feferi, eyes following Kanaya’s line of sight, says suddenly, “Oh, that’s my bus!”

They all clamber on, taking up most of the seats near the front that face each other.  The bus’s only other occupants are a girl totally engrossed in whatever’s playing through her huge headphones and a boy with dreads who is apparently out cold.

There isn’t any more talk of Kanaya’s mysterious mission, and Feferi, who might have brought it up in time, pulls the cord for her stop within fifteen minutes.  There’s a slight lull in the conversation once she leaves, but once again Kanaya fills it.  She’s been casting surreptitious glances at Aradia since seeing her reaction to the mention of Sollux, and now she seems to have summoned the courage to ask.

“I couldn’t help but notice,” she says slowly, “that you seemed to have a certain...interest in Sollux as well?”

“You two would look cute together,” says Nepeta, and then, conscientiously, “not that he isn’t adorable with Feferi!  I’m just saying, I think there might be chemistry.”

“Sollux?”  Aradia leans against the plexiglass wall of the bus stop, her face unreadable.  “...We were friends in high school.”

Tavros gives her a sidelong look, chewing his lip absently.  When he speaks, his voice is very careful; the words seem delicately chosen, one at a time.  “I...don’t think...you ever mentioned him…”

Aradia gives him a smile that looks completely genuine save for the way she tilts her head gently down so that she’s looking at him from under her eyebrows.  Tavros stops abruptly and looks away, his face reddening, at which Aradia seems to relent somewhat.

“I still haven’t really talked to him for a while.  He takes some classes at State as well as Comm, so it’s not that I haven’t seen him around, but...either he hasn’t seen me, or he’s...well...”

Kanaya leans tentatively forward, fingers laced in her lap.  “Perhaps I could help--?”

Aradia turns her indefatigable smile on Kanaya, stretched a little bit wider than look comfortable.  Kanaya sits back, murmuring, “Ah.  Yes.  Of course.  Uh, Tavros, what about you and Vriska?  I haven’t spoken to her in a while but I think about her sometimes.  I hope she’s...happy.”

Tavros rubs his fingers over his mouth, apparently hesitant to speak, and Kanaya adds hurriedly, “No need to be delicate, I know how she is...I just thought I would ask.  We were also, ah, friends in high school.”  She shoots Aradia a nervous glance, but the other girl’s expression has become gentler since Kanaya asked about Vriska.

“She’s, uh…”  Tavros sighs through his nose.  “She acts happy.  I mean, if you know her you know what I mean.  She always wants people to think she’s, totally perfect, you know?  But-- _please_ don’t tell her I told you this--I don’t think she’s doing too well.  She had to re-take a freshman class this year.”

Kanaya hums sadly, sitting back.  “And...let me guess how she’s responded to that.   _Bad luck_?”

“Yeah,” says Tavros, looking relieved.  “I tried explaining it to her but, well…”

Nepeta cocks her head on one side and says, “So if it’s not going well, why not break up with her?”

“What?”  Tavros’s eyes widen.  “That’s--isn’t that, kind of, a  _personal_ thing, to ask?”

“Is it?” asks Nepeta, glancing at Aradia, who shrugs mildly.  Tavros frowns at her, and after a moment Aradia coughs, looking embarrassed.

“...Sorry, I guess that was out of line,” she says.  “Okay, let me help!  He’s actually kind of tried before!  But whenever he does, she gets all sweet and clingy and guilts him into staying with her.”

“Aradia!” Tavros yelps, his face going bright red.

“Oh, was that wrong too?”

Faced with Aradia’s apparently earnest dismay, Tavros just lets his head drop and sweeps back his dark mohawk with one hand and then the other.

“I’m sorry.”

“Later,” Tavros mumbles, not looking up.  Aradia falls silent, staring at her hands.

In a desperate attempt to break the uncomfortable silence, Kanaya catches Nepeta’s eye and says brightly, “So...rugby!”

Nepeta blinks, but recovers at the speed of light.  “Yes!  It’s a lot of fun, but I’m not sure if I can explain it right now--my stop’s coming up…”

“No need for that,” says Kanaya.  “Do you follow league or union?”

Nepeta gapes at her for a moment then says, “Union, but--I didn’t know you--”

“My  _baba_ wanted me to play when--when I was younger,” Kanaya says, her voice catching for a moment--she seems to think she’s said something wrong.

“That’s very progressive of him,” says Nepeta politely.  “My dad didn’t let me play until I was a high school senior!  He said I should do gymnastics instead, which was really fun but it just...wasn’t the same, you know?”

“Mm,” says Kanaya, glancing out the window.  “...What was your stop, did you say?”

“12th,” Nepeta chirps.  “So, did you watch the championship with your dad?  Were you rooting for New Zealand or South Africa?”

“Then I’m actually getting off before you, I suppose.  Oh, but, um, he only pays attention to the Asian Five Nations, really...” says Kanaya, a little apologetically.  “But I thought the All Blacks were...pretty cool!  I still can’t believe Carter’s leaving.”

“Tell me about it!  But, okay, you watch rugby and write for the school newspaper, but what’s your actual major?”

“Fashion Design.  I’ve always loved putting together outfits, but I don’t think my parents ever really believed I would stick with it until I entered the program here at State.”

They continue like this for a while, Aradia and Tavros’s silence still eating away at the conversation as they pass by stop after stop.  Kanaya and Tavros, both State students, are the first to get off, leaving Aradia and Nepeta alone together.

“So,” says Nepeta as the bus sets off again, “ready to save the world from destruction?”

Aradia’s expression acquires a far-away quality.  “Hmmm...maybe!”

“ _Maybe_?  What does that mean?”

She looks up to give Nepeta one last enigmatic, red-lipped smile.  “Either way, it’s going to be interesting, don’t you think?”

\--

It’s not long before a group text arrives from Kanaya asking all of them when they can meet.  Apparently, delivering messages via the newspaper isn’t a viable method anymore.

The weather is getting colder, so an outside meeting seems out of the question, but at the same time Sollux seems loathe to host eleven guests in his room.  Karkat’s inclined to agree; for one thing, there aren’t nearly enough chairs, or enough room on Sollux’s beds.

So it’s agreed that they’ll meet in one of the study spaces in the front hall of their dorm.  Sollux explains how reservations work and Karkat, who is more inclined to interact with other people, manages to navigate the process with the desk assistant.

It’s much, much harder to find a good time for twelve busy college students to meet, but as it turns out, everyone’s Saturday evenings are free.  Some are disgruntled by the idea that this evening won’t be free  _anymore_ , but even Vriska caves after sufficient nagging on Karkat’s part.

So here they all are, separated into mini-cliques--Feferi sits next to Sollux and Eridan sits next to Feferi while pointedly ignoring Sollux’s existence.  The rest of the roleplaying group is gathered together down one side of the table, talking softly about recent events in their campaign to pass the time.  Next to them is Nepeta, who spends her time glancing at Karkat, contributing where she can to the D&D talk, and shooting Equius reassuring smiles.  Gamzee sticks close to Karkat but grins dopily around at everyone else, occasionally waving to random people.  It’s a little embarrassing, but Karkat can’t smell drugs on him so he decides to let it go this time.

Kanaya arrives late, looking disgruntled.  Even before anyone can ask her what’s wrong, she’s pulling out the eight ball and a green notebook and saying, “Well, I can’t say I’m surprised, honestly I shouldn’t have asked them to publish this horoscope, but I thought it would be a good way to get out of writing them and focus all my time on the other work they give me!  I wasn’t expecting them to simply oust me from the staff entirely!”

“Oh, no!” Feferi yelps, hurrying over to her.  “That’s so unfair, I’m sorry!”

Kanaya smooths her hair and manages a tiny smile.  “…Well, it’s not as though I was particularly attached to the job.  Spending any amount of time around the writers leaves one with a general lack of faith in media!  But I guess in a way that made it even more insulting…”

“Oh, totally,” says Feferi, with earnest sympathy.  And then something seems to click inside her and her eyes light up, going to the ball and the book.  “But maybe you have something  _exciting_ to show us to take your mind off of it?”

“Something like that,” Kanaya murmurs, opening to a page in the middle and sliding it, after a moment’s consideration, in Karkat’s direction.  He picks up the page, pleased to find that her handwriting is easily legible, and starts reading.

_ARIES: Follow Capricorn_

_TAURUS: Follow Capricorn_

_GEMINI: Follow Capricorn_

_CANCER: Follow Capricorn_

_LEO: Follow Capricorn_

_VIRGO: Follow Capricorn_

_LIBRA: Follow Capricorn_

_SCORPIO: Follow Capricorn_

_SAGITTARIUS: Follow Capricorn_

_CAPRICORN: Trust in Eunice._

_AQUARIUS: Follow Capricorn._

_PISCES: Follow Capricorn._

There is a long,  _long_ moment of silence.

“...Who the hell is  _Eunice_?” asks Eridan, his eyes narrowed.  “Friend a yours, Gam?”

“Gamzee doesn’t  _know_ anyone named Eunice,” says Karkat, with absolute certainty.  Gamzee would surely have mentioned making another friend outside the group—friendship seems to be something that excites him greatly.

Gamzee looks down at him with mild, open surprise.  “What?  No, sure I do!  It’s-- _hup_ \--it’s this guy’s name!  Ain’t that right, Eunice?”

 _“Maaa,”_ says Eunice.

Everyone stares mutely at the goat on Gamzee’s lap.  Finally, Tavros says, “This is, probably, the weirdest thing we’ve been told to do so far?”

“Agreed,” murmurs Equius.  Karkat thinks this is a little pretentious on his part, given that he’s only gotten into all the weird horoscope shit recently.

“Well, Eunice pretty much goes where he does please,” says Gamzee, setting the little goat down on the floor and standing up.  “Maybe we just gotta make such as to follow him to all wherever that is!”

“I...think I understood most of the words in that sentence,” says Feferi, and then, as Gamzee fastens the end of a cord around the goat’s collar and meanders in the direction of the door, “Wait, where’s he going?”

“I think he is...trusting Eunice,” says Kanaya, also standing up.  “So we should follow him.  It might be now or never.”

“It’s a  _goat_ ,” says Terezi.

Kanaya colors but strides after Gamzee anyway, saying, “I’ve come too far to let that stop me.  You can follow me if you want to.  I won’t tell you to.”

“But I will,” says Karkat.  “Come on, everyone, let’s take a fucking walk.  Follow Capricorn, right?”

“This is ridiculous,” says Equius as the rest of the group stands up with varying degrees of reluctance.  “I’m not going to take orders from a conceited  _freshman_.”

“We can argue about that on the way there!  Do I look like I’m going to beg you to come along, sweatstorm?”

“I find you extremely offensive,” Equius growls, pushing himself out of his chair to stalk after Karkat.

“Join the club,” says Karkat, holding the door for the big rugby player.  “Now, where’s--oh.”

“He just done all up to sit here,” says Gamzee, looking bemusedly down at Eunice.  Kanaya’s standing next to him, still looking a little embarrassed, but Karkat doesn’t miss the look of relief on her face as she surveys the new arrivals.   _You’re welcome, Maryam._

“It looks like we’re all supposed to go,” says Karkat.  “And here we all are.  I think we should all go.”

“Oh, no, I just remembered, I have to study!” Feferi squeaks.  “I only have an A-minus in Business History and the exam’s coming up in a month, I put aside time today to ask the professor what I missed last week, I can’t afford—”

“FF,” Sollux murmurs, taking her hand.  “Hey.  FF.  Look at me, come on.  Hey, you can stay if you want to, alright?  But it’s okay if you come with us too, you know, if you want.  You said the prof posts the powerpoints online, right?”

She nods mutely, taking deep breaths.  Out of the corner of his eye, Karkat sees Eridan open his mouth to say something and drives his heel into the other boy’s toes.  Eridan yelps and glares.

“She’s already putting enough fucking pressure on herself,” Karkat whispers harshly.  “You gotta stop  _worrying_ , you’ll only make it worse!”

Eridan’s lip curls slightly.  “Oh yeah, ‘cause you’re Mr. Sensitivity over here!”

“Hey man, if you’re that worried we can talk about it later, but right now—“

“Hey, are you two coming?”

“Yes!” Eridan and Karkat chorus, and jog together after the other ten, still shooting each other half-hearted glares.

The walk is warmer than it should really be for the time of the year, but since it’s October that’s still pretty fucking chilly.  Karkat shoves his hands into his armpits, feeling his invisible arm hair stand on end in the brisk evening air.  Gamzee puts one long, hot arm around his shoulders and doesn’t remove it when Karkat shrugs violently.  Still, Karkat has the feeling that Gamzee probably  _would_ withdraw if he did it again.

He doesn’t do it again.  

Ahead of them, Eunice meanders on, never pulling at his leash, stopping only occasionally to eat something from the side of the road.

Equius trails awkwardly a little behind Nepeta.  For all his apparent reluctance to interact with anyone, he seems determined to stay close to the person he knows best out of the group.  Terezi wonders cynically how he stands the amount of bodily contact involved in playing rugby.

Behind her, a voice rises in the still evening air.  Terezi tilts her head, focusing with interest on the argument.

“...so I think I should be the one leading us, if anyone!”

“I’m just saying, you know, that, well, none of us know what we’re doing here.  So, until we do, I don’t think we need a ‘leader’--”

“Tavros, really?  That’s a pretty dumb thing to say.  There are  _twelve_ of us!  Someone has to tell these numbnuts what to do!”

“It’s not dumb,” says Tavros, the first tremor of real anger underlying the words.  His left hand goes white-knuckled on the handle of his cane with every other step  “And I don’t think we do need a leader, right now, and even if we did…”

He trails off, and Terezi glances around just in time to see Kanaya’s tall, red-clothed figure insert itself between the glaring couple.

“Excuse me,” she says, “I think you both have some important points, but--”

“Oh,  _great_ ,” Vriska growls, glaring at the intervener.  “Miss Fussyface is here to tell me how to have a relationship.   _Again_.”

“That’s not...what I’m doing!” says Kanaya, looking affronted.  “I just wanted to help!  I like being  _helpful_!”

Vriska makes a noise that could accurately be described as a snarl.  “Well you can  _take_ your help and shove it up your--”

“I think we’re here!” Karkat shouts from the front of the group.  Kanaya gasps and hurries up towards him.

“...If there’s even room for it with that huge fucking stick already there,” Vriska finishes sullenly, following.

Eunice has stopped and is staring up at something on the side of the road with those wide, slot-pupiled eyes.  The group moves around Gamzee and his goat until they’re standing in a rough semi-circle, inspecting Eunice’s discovery.

There’s an impressive stone arch looming above them, at the apex of which is an engraved copper plate.  Kanaya, who has a large leather bag slung over one shoulder, withdraws from it a flashlight.  She aims the beam at the plate and says, “…The Felt.  What does that mean?”

“The Felt’s an old country club golf course,” says Vriska immediately.  “Home of the rich and snobby as fuck.”

“My parents come here all the time,” says Equius, in a voice like a rumbling volcano.  Terezi is starting to get the impression that the deepness of his tone has a direct relation to the amount of anger building inside him, since he’s usually more of a baritone than a bass.

“Case in point,” Vriska replies, shrugging blithely.  Equius makes a little growling noise deep in his chest.

“Hey Kanaya,” says Nepeta quickly, “why don’t we take a look at the rest of it?  Maybe there’s something special about the gates!”

There are indeed gates, dull black in the twilight and seemingly nothing out of the ordinary.  Equius’s tentative inspection of them results in the conclusion that they are actually made of wood.  Though well-crafted, the shapes carved into them aren’t of the elegant, artistic type found in, say, fancy wrought-iron gates.  There is, however, a large spiral design at its center—half on one gate and half on the other.  Around it, the craftsman added designs that might, if you squinted, resemble a pair of wings.

“Is that a flying lollipop?” Sollux deadpans, earning a few nervous chuckles from the rest of the group.

“Or a whirlpool!” says Feferi, running her fingers over the cold wood.

“Or a black hole,” says Equius.

“You may be reaching a bit there, Mister Zahhak,” Terezi murmurs.

“I find it more plausible than the  _lollipop_ theory.”

“Oh my god, I was being facetious!”

“Is anyone else seeing these?”

Sollux and Equius whip around angrily, but both of their glares wane slightly when they see that the speaker is Aradia.  She’s pointing to the wall, where a series of symbols seem to have been carved into the stones.  They seem almost to glow in the dark, not with comforting brightness but with the faint, eye-boring glare of black light.

“Well,” says Terezi into the silence, “ _One_ of you had better tell me what we’re all looking at.”

Kanaya clears her throat and says, “...They seem to be mostly abstract designs, but there are a few familiar symbols.  A gear, a sun...that one might be a pair of wings…”

“I’ve heard of these,” says Equius, unexpectedly.  All eyes turn to him, but he only meets Nepeta’s, addressing her.  “The man who owns the Felt claims they have some historical significance.  Apparently he sometimes gives tours of this property--for a fee, of course--and he describes each of them as having specific names and meanings.  I don’t doubt the information is online somewhere.”

“Sounds like fake touristy bullshit,” Karkat observes dubiously.

“Yeah, but,” says Nepeta after a moment, “they’re glowing?  And there’s twelve of them!”

“Why would that--” Sollux starts, and then stops, smacking the heel of his palm against his forehead.  “Damn.  You’re right.  Twelve of them, twelve of us.”

Vriska makes a grumbling noise in the back of her throat, clearly unconvinced.   “Could be a coincidence.”

“I don’t believe in coincidence,” says Kanaya.

“Me neither!”  Aradia flourishes her phone in one hand, stepping towards the stones.  “Can you shine your flashlight on these?  I’ll take pictures and then we can head back!”

“It’s only nine,” says Vriska.  “Afraid of the dark, Megido?”

Aradia flashes her a dazzling and slightly horrible grin.  “Not at all!  But Tavros’s leg is hurting...didn’t you notice?”

“I--of course!  What are you implying?”

“Nothing,” says Aradia mildly, flashing careful shot after shot of the symbols on the wall.  “I just asked you whether you’d noticed, and you did, so there’s no problem, obviously!”

Vriska opens her mouth to speak, but shuts it again, glowering, at the sound of someone clearing their throat.

“...Fussy,” she grumbles, jamming her hands in her pockets.  And then, glancing at Tavros, she says, all saccharine (but not, Terezi thinks, entirely insincere) concern, “It’s not like you hate me now or anything, right?”

“...I, no, of course not,” Tavros mumbles.  Aradia shrugs and raises her eyebrows, but continues her inspection of the stones without another word.

\--

It’s later.  Almost midnight, to be exact.  First there was the walk back, then a stop by the library cafe for smoothies, because it was on their way, and then it was decided that they couldn’t just split up without discussing their discoveries (mostly by Karkat), so it was back to the dorm and the long table where all of this started hours ago.  By then, everyone looks exhausted and Gamzee is carrying Eunice under one arm.  The goat is dead asleep.

They don’t have the study space reserved anymore, but as no one else seems inclined to do studying at 11:56 on a Saturday, their claim hasn’t been threatened yet.  Feferi  _is_ studying, though, looking a little bit feverish as she scrolls past slide after slide on mass-market consumer products circa World War II.

“So…The Felt,” says Vriska, rocking her chair back on two legs to cross her ankles on the table.  “I know it’s high-class as fuck but what’s so special about it, really?”

“Isn’t it built on top of those old Indian burial mounds?” says Nepeta, frowning as though trying to remember something.  “I had a friend in high school who—”

“Actually, no.”

It’s Tavros’s voice, but no one looks to him at first—probably, Karkat thinks, because Tavros has never interrupted anyone before.  As people slowly realize it was him and actually turn their attention to him, Tavros seems to shrink a little, putting more weight on his cane.

“…Actually, um,” he says slowly, “a lot of the mounds here in Ohio were—“ he glances at Aradia and she nods--  “Hopewell.  Still native, but not the ones you’re thinking of, and they were here a long time before any of the surviving local tribes got…established.  The golf course ones, they’re more recent, and we don’t know where they came from.  We’d…we’d probably know better, but no archaeologists have been allowed to look at them.”

“But what’s so  _special_ about them?” asks Vriska impatiently.  “Are you telling me we don’t know  _anything_?”

Aradia clears her throat and turns around her laptop so that the whole group can see  what’s on her screen.  It looks like some kind of Urban Legends website.

“We do know some things.  For instance, they looks like this.”  Aradia points to a photograph taken from above, looking down on a heavily-wooded landscape.  In the broad gap between two copses is a set of clearly-visible bumps in the grass—four points making a rectangle, and then four more, each placed carefully at the median between the other points.  

“Stories from the grandparents of locals seem to correlate on a few points,” she says, “and if you choose to believe them, then the story goes something like this: Four kids once went to this place on a…dare or some kind of supernatural mission, depending on which version you listen to.  They met with some dangerous being there—exactly what  _kind_ of dangerous being is even more unclear.  Some people say it was just a serial killer, others insist it was the devil.  You know, The Devil.  And he’s  _still there_.”  

She grins broadly at the words, causing most of the group to frown in concern.  To one side, out of her line of sight, Sollux gives her a quick smile.  Karkat looks away immediately with the distinct impression that he’s just witnessed something private.

“The  _Devil_ ,” says Eridan, skepticism oozing from every syllable.  Beside him, Feferi is grinning with breathless excitement.  Vriska is straight-faced, Kanaya resigned (of course she believes it, Karkat thinks), and Tavros decidedly nervous.  Gamzee’s face is crumpled in concern.  Karkat, who’s heard enough about the Devil in church over the years, is furiously plumbing the depths of his memory for any relevant information.

“That explains why the gates weren’t made of iron,” says Aradia, as though this is a connection everyone should understand.  And, indeed, while everyone else gives her blank stares, Karkat, Tavros, and Nepeta all nod in understanding.

“…What?” says Karkat as Eridan gives him an odd look.  “I guess  _someone’s_ not up-to-date with their religious superstitions.  Iron and demons?  Don’t mix?  Come on, I thought everyone picked this kind of stuff up from, like…fantasy pop culture.  That kind of thing.”

Eridan raises one perfectly groomed black eyebrow.  “Kar.  You’re one a my best friends now and all, but I swear you get the weirdest damn ideas in your head.”

“Shut the fuck up!  Like it’s any weirder than the rest of this bullshit!”

“What about those little fuckers that all as lit up when we got near?” asks Gamzee, surprising everyone.  Karkat hadn’t expected him to speak up at all, let alone say something relevant.  “What does it say there, Aradia?  I got my interest on for them drawings.”

“Well, for one thing, it turns out Equius was right!  People have written down the spiel the Felt’s owner gives guests, and I’ve managed to dig up a couple correlating records.  Here, I printed some of them while you guys were buying snacks...”  

She pulls a massive black binder out of her backpack, flipping it open.  After a little riffling, she produces a sheet of paper with rough copies of the shapes printed on it.  Pointing to each of them in turn, she says, “Blood, Life, Hope, Doom, Light, Space, Breath, Mind, Void, Heart, Rage, and Time.  Does that mean anything to you, Kanaya?”

Kanaya swallows visibly as all eyes turn expectantly to her, adjusting her high collar with one hand.  “Maybe.  I was told that signs would appear to us signifying the trials we would have to undertake--”

“ _Trials?_ ”  That’s Eridan, arms folded so tightly he might have trouble getting them untangled, squinting at Kanaya from almost the other end of the table.  “Kan, how many times are you plannin’ on withholdin’ pertinent information from us lowly pawns?  First it’s just some mysterious horoscope stuff, but then, oh, we have to  _save the world_ , and then, wait, we have to save the world from  _the Devil_ by goin’ through  _trials_ , I mean, come--”

“In fairness,” says Kanaya, “I did not know the devil was involved.  That may only be an urban legend.  And if I had told you the more...salient pieces of information earlier, would you have been inclined to investigate further?”

“I don’t know!  Maybe!  Or maybe not, but the thing is, it’s not like tellin’ us now is really any better.  Like fuck I’m goin’ to some creepy old golf course to look for fairy tales, an’ I’ll bet you’ll be hard-pressed to find anyone here who  _is_ up for it!”

“I’m in.”

Again, it takes a moment to realize it’s Tavros.  He stares defiantly around at everyone’s faces, their expressions of varied bemusement and outright shock.

“Well…saving the world sounds kind of important, right?  I mean, I think it does.  Assuming this is a real thing, which, if it isn’t, how bad will it be?  Don’t we have to at least try?”

“Yes!” says Vriska, almost before he’s done asking the question.  She’s looking at him with an almost unnerving intrigue.  Karkat tries to catch Terezi’s eye, remembering as he does so that it might be a futile endeavor.  But she’s also glancing at him, eyebrows raised.  They share a moment of significant eye contact and then Karkat decides he should probably make a speech.

He stands up, clears his throat to cut off the muttered discussions happening up and down the table, and marshalls his thoughts.

“I know we’re not all  _BFFsies_ by a long shot,” he begins, to a chorus of  _‘what?’_ s.  He ignores these and continues, “I know some of us basically hate each other!  Being completely honest, I personally hate a lot of you, but my point here is that you shouldn’t take it personally--”

“ _Wow_ , KK.”

“Shut up!  My point is  _none_ of you can take any of that shit personally right now because right now it’s not about you!  Or me, or any of us.  It’s about everyone else in the world, and Tavros is right, we have to try,  _just in case_!  All twelve of us, no matter how mysterious and fuck-ass weird it seems right now, no matter what life-threatening dangers might await--what?  What is it?”

“This is without a doubt the worst speech I have ever heard,” says Equius, lowering his hand.

“Shut up!”

“If Coach Brazinski made a speech like this one, we would be guaranteed a loss.”

“Shut up!”

“Well,  _I’m_ going,” says Nepeta, nudging Equius.

“What?  No.  It could be dangerous and I forbid you from putting yourself in such a situation.”

“You can’t stop me!”

“Yes, I can,” Equius growls.  Nepeta fails supremely to look intimidated.

“Equius Zahhak, have you  _ever_ managed to tackle me in practice?”

“That’s--not--”

“No one’s tackling anyone!” Karkat shouts, to the complaints of everyone at the table and the disapproving glare of the RA behind the desk.  Lowering his voice to a kind of whispered shout, he continues, “ _Look_.  We all know Kanaya’s not crazy, right?  We’ve all seen the magic stuff happen for ourselves.  And she’s a reasonable person, she wouldn’t ask us to do super dangerous shit if she didn’t think there was a really good reason!  Right, Kanaya?”

Kanaya, who has been staring at him with her mouth slightly open, says, “I...well, yes--”

“And even just to go up and check out that fucking golf course, we  _all_ had to go!  So if this is a real thing, we should all put our grown-up panties on and get our shit together and  _do_ this.  I realize it feels like a total pain in the--”

“Well, I don’t know about the rest of us,” says Terezi, “but  _I_ never said I wasn’t going.”

Karkat glares at her, wide-eyed, a muscle twitching in his throat.  “Will you shut up and let me finish my speech?”

“I  _have_ to go,” Feferi blurts, apparently unable to contain herself.  “It’s too exciting!  This could be a real adventure!”

“Then I’m goin’ too,” says Eridan immediately, glancing at Sollux, who rolls his eyes.

“Yeah, we’ll need you to take care of us for  _sure_.  What will we do without Eridan Ampora’s stellar leadership?”

“Oh, so you’re comin’ now?”

“Beats sitting through classes that try and teach me stuff I could figure out in my free time!”

“Well, if that isn’t--”

“ _Anyway_ ,” Karkat snarls, his face a patchy red, “if it wasn’t already painfully obvious some of us will have difficulty cooperating, resident geniuses Sollux and Eridan have given us a perfect example!  Fucking thank you!”

“Oh, I wouldn’t miss this for the world,” says Aradia, earning a wordless glare of fury from Karkat and an odd look from Kanaya.

“I think the idea is to  _not_ miss it for the world,” she says slowly, “although I appreciate the support.”

“Motherfuck, it’ll be like a fuckin’  _party_ ,” says Gamzee.  “And I been antsy as all hell comin’ off the stuff...maybe we’ll run into some bad shit, which as I can get my hittin’ on for.”

Karkat drops momentarily out of his escalating rage for a moment to give Gamzee a hard look and say, “What the hell was that.  Did you just say you hope we meet something nasty so you can  _fight_ it and, what, release tension?  I didn’t know that was a thing for you, why have you never mentioned that?”

Gamzee shrugs.  “Fights is bad,” he says simply, as though this explains everything.

“You need to learn how to process your feelings,” Karkat announces, pointing an officious finger at Gamzee’s face.  Then he turns to the table at large, clears his throat, and with the folding of his arms, seems to re-gather all the rage he had previously been building.  “Regardless of whatever shit you’ve gone through in the past, or how you feel about each other, this is an important mission that could--”

It is at this point that Terezi coughs--a sharp, deliberate little noise tailored to leave any listeners in no doubt that it’s her turn to talk.  Karkat turns blazing pale eyes on her in an intensely accusing glare.

“Oh my  _fucking_ god, what  _now_?”

Although Terezi’s voice is mild the grin on her face indicates that she’s about to drop a little bombshell and enjoy it immensely.  “ _Well_ , I don’t know if you’ve been keeping track, but I’m very good at listening and remembering, and I’m  _fairly_ sure that while you were trying to make your little speech, everyone at this table agreed to go along.  You can finish though, if you like.  I was rather enjoying it.”


	4. Midterm

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In this chapter: preparation, a long walk, the Devil, and twelve harrowing trials including near-lethal injuries, confessions of love and lack thereof, and racist grandpas.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter features an instance of several very nasty, blunt racial slurs plus some slightly more oblique nasty racial language. It's not my intention to pull the whole "worst parts of the South" stereotype, but since I started initially with the idea that Gamzee was Southern (because the drawl seemed so fitting), his family's attitude sort of fell into place from there.

Aradia flips over a flash card.  “What’s this one?”

“No idea,” says Terezi blithely from one corner of the room.  Aradia shushes her, not unkindly, and turns back to her study partner.

“Well?”

Gamzee squints at the card, lips mashed to one side in an expression of intense concentration.  “Mmmmmm _mmmmm_ mmmm…”

“Oh come on, even  _I_ know this one,” says Karkat.

“You would!” Feferi tells him, raising her eyebrows.  Sollux offers her a fistbump.

“We did it five minutes ago?” says Aradia coaxingly.  “You just got three in a row, we’ve almost got it!”

Gamzee hazards a guess.  “Iiiiis it…that one motherfucker…angry…anger…that one.”

“Rage, but close enough!” says Aradia, throwing the card over her shoulder.  “Good job!”

On one side of each card is one of the twelve symbols; on the other, the interpretation of its meaning given by the golf course’s owner.  Some--like Space, Time, Rage, and Life--were straightforward enough, but the rest were more amorphous and difficult to remember, especially for Gamzee.  It goes something like this:

DOOM -  _death, sacrifice, inescapable fate_

HOPE -  _belief, optimism_

HEART -  _soul, being, self_

BLOOD -  _connections, family (actual blood too!!)_

LIGHT -  _luck, fortune_ ,  _clarity_

MIND -  _thought, intention_

BREATH -  _wind,_   _flight, freedom (actual breath!!)_

VOID -  _absence of anything_

“So we’re going to have to face tests based somehow on all this vague mystic bullshit?” asks Karkat apprehensively, watching as Gamzee puzzles over the next card.  “There had better at least be a comprehensible fucking grading system.”

Kanaya, whose topic of choice for adventure preparation is the constellations of the zodiac, looks absently up from her astrology book to say something but instead glances at the door, where a librarian is peering at them suspiciously.  Kanaya essays a little wave.

“What are all of you studying for?” asks the librarian, looking from Kanaya with her star charts, to Aradia’s symbolic flash cards, to Sollux, who’s queuing posts on all his social media sites in case they don’t come back by tomorrow at noon, and then to Vriska, who stares brazenly back while her hand adds “Knives” to a column entitled “THINGS WE MIGHT NEED” on the study room’s whiteboard.

“Miss Whitney!” says Feferi, standing up from her place in the corner and hurrying over to the door.  “It’s good to see you again!  We’re planning for a camping trip over Thanksgiving break, actually…we had this room reserved the past couple of days as well, and we usually use it for class work, but since we haven’t been able to find time together to plan this--our schedules conflict so much, you wouldn’t even  _believe_ —“

Miss Whitney, looking relieved to find such a reputable and good-natured student among the crowd of oddballs, waves away her excuses with reassurances that basically boil down to “well, if  _Feferi Peixes_ is involved it has to be okay.”

“You’re incredible,” Sollux tells Feferi as she sits back down.

“You could do it too if you weren’t sporting the half-shaggy-half-buzzcut look!” she tells him, ruffling the hair on his head that can actually be ruffled.  “I mean, it’s not as though she would believe the truth, and we  _are_ kind of planning to…go out into the wild?  Maybe it’s a bit of a stretch!”

On the other side of the table, Equius clears his throat.  “Peixes, would you mind focusing on the task at hand?”

“Oh!  Sorry, Equius, I promise I was going to get back to you soon.”   Feferi gives him her most radiant smile and gets back into comparing notes from their shared economy class.  Unlike the rest of the group, Equius and Feferi actually have an exam tomorrow, and as such are using the study room for its intended purpose.

“Still nothing like those mounds anywhere in archaeological history,” says Tavros, frowning at a thick book of tiny gray text and tiny gray pictures with his chin on his folded arms.  “Aradia, not to, uh, not to say that teaching Gamzee those things isn’t important, but wouldn’t you be better at this?  Archaeology isn’t  _really_ my thing…?”

“You’ll be fine,” says Aradia absentmindedly.  “Now, let’s try the hard ones again.  Remember, abstract concepts!”

“What?” says Gamzee helplessly.  Karkat sighs and extends a hand to Aradia, who shrugs and hands him the flash cards.

“Great,” says Tavros, “now, can you please, maybe, help me with this?”

“I can give it a shot,” says Aradia, one hand hovering over the range of books in front of him.  “Which ones of these have you already read?”

“Everything in that pile.  Here, take these, I think they’ve got a lot of stuff about burial traditions and, uh, things like that…”

“Ooh!”

After another fifteen minutes of quiet busywork, the silence broken only by the studious murmurs of Equius, Feferi, Gamzee, and Karkat, Aradia sits up and clears her throat.  “Alright, all I’ve found here is that the devil was supposedly imprisoned there on  _Halloween night_  a long time ago, possibly by the four kids who vanished there—the mounds have something to do with that…  And that supposedly a group of twelve people who went there maybe twenty years ago never came back.  No names here, though.”

“What book is that?” asks Tavros, frowning as he peers over her shoulder.

“ _Spooky Ohio_ ,” says Aradia.  “It’s a collection of ghost stories!  I think I might check it out, actually.”

“Oh, that is… _incredibly_ encouraging,” says Kanaya, who has been looking more and more stressed as the week goes on.  “Would you then recommend we go there this Halloween?  It’s only five days away!”

“There’s a precedent,” says Aradia.  “So why not carry on the tradition?”

“Sure, a precedent of  _vanishing without a fucking trace,_ ” Sollux grumbles.  He isn’t looking at Aradia but he glances up, quick and sharp, when she giggles.  When he turns his gaze back down again, there’s a strange, crooked smile on his face.  

Kanaya, eyes flicking surreptitiously from one to another, fidgets with the pencil in her hands.  Karkat, aware by now of her proclivities, nudges her and shakes his head ever so slightly.  She grimaces, then sighs, nodding in that  _yes-I-know_ kind of way.

“My father’s brother went missing on Halloween when I was two years old,” says Equius suddenly, looking at Aradia.  “That would have been approximately twenty years ago.  I wonder whether…”

“Bad business deal?” Eridan inquires, raising his eyebrows.  “I mean, I’ve heard rumors about your dad’s company--”

“All false,” Equius rumbles, leveling a piercing gaze at him.  “And no, nothing of the sort.  Uncle Horuss was something of a...black sheep.  He had superstitions...spent his weekends roaming the countryside on undisclosed business.  My parents hardly ever talked about him, apart from briefly explaining that he had vanished without a trace...presumed dead.”

“Come to think of it,” says Gamzee, frowning, “Grandpa  _did_ done and come up here to Ohio back before I was borned, never came back.  Mother all to said it was probly them damn Yanks got him.”

There’s a moment of contemplative silence at this.

“Gamzee,” says Karkat wearily, “do you even know what that means?”

“Motherfuck yeah bro,” says Gamzee, raising his eyebrows.  “Except the part what about Yanks are.  Figured it was like...jerks, y’know?”

Feferi gives Gamzee a concerned look.  “And I thought my parents were bad…”

Karkat fully expects Gamzee to try defending his family again, and for a moment it looks like he’s going to, but after a moment he gives a little one-sided shrug and gestures at Karkat to keep going through the cards.

Karkat doesn’t comment.

\--

It’s hard--practically impossible, in fact--to concentrate on class that week.  Kanaya is constantly sending emails and texts, checking and double-checking plans, even though she’s busy enough already.  Karkat learns this after she accidentally texts him some question about fabrics and her hasty subsequent explanation reveals that she’s agreed to help out anyone who needs assistance with their halloween costume on her floor.

_CG: That’s not included in the RA package, is it?_

_GA: Well, of course not, but I’m the only one with a sewing machine and it’s not a big deal really…_

_CG: It isn’t?_

_GA: It’s stressing me half to death, actually._

_CG: Yeah, that’s what I thought.  You’re turning into a Feferi._

_GA: I don’t think it’s fair to say that!  She’s been doing much better recently._

_CG: Whatever._

But somehow she manages to be at the dorm at 11:00 on Halloween night, and so (miraculously) do the other eleven members of their party.  Karkat had been expecting at least one or two to try bailing, but even Sollux, who has decided alternately not to go and that he actually should go at least five times this week, arrives on time.

Everyone is carrying what tools or study items they feel will be most important, but Kanaya is the only one with a duffel bag over one shoulder.  A quick inspection of the contents yields, among other things, three flashlights, two full water bottles, gloves, a box of tissues, a bag of trail mix, and a pair of gardening shears.

“Are you going to ask us if we have to go to the bathroom before we leave?” he asks, raising his eyebrows.  She rolls her eyes but still manages a smile, which widens a little when Nepeta says, “Oh, I have to go!  Anyone else?”

“Way to announce it, Leijon,” says Vriska, with a little more vitriol than she usually might use.  She’s not the only one looking unusually nervous, and it’s not as though Karkat can blame any of them.  The initial excitement at the thought of leading a team of eleven people on a magical quest has since fermented into stomach-churning doubt and paranoid concern.

Still, no going back now.  He double-checks important items: Gamzee isn’t high, good; Terezi’s wearing knee and elbow pads (apparently acquired from her older sister); there isn’t a knife visible on Vriska’s person; Aradia’s carrying her bag with the binder in it; Sollux doesn’t appear to be having a panic attack…

At the moment, it’s about all he could ask for.  That, and an antacid.  Pulling on his coat, Karkat waits for the rest of them to follow suit and then marches out the door into the crisp Autumn night.

Walking through the crowds of costumed people creates an eerie sense of detachment.  Around them, people are laughing, chattering, adjusting their masks.  Add to this the fear of what they know combined with all the horribly blank patches in their knowledge makes the walk all the more chilling.  It’s not a complicated trip, but Kanaya still has a map in one hand and a flashlight in the other, checking it every time they make a turn.

Tavros and Equius are both silent, consumed by their thoughts.  Terezi and Eridan keep reviewing the relevant information over and over again, Aradia occasionally interjecting to correct one or the other.  Karkat will occasionally break out in some loud, overly-impassioned encouragement, which at least serves to distract the rest of the group while they groan at him to be quiet.  

Vriska picks arguments with anyone speaking.  Gamzee is uncharacteristically quiet, sloping along at Karkat’s shoulder and occasionally muttering the names of the twelve symbols under his breath.  Sollux and Feferi take turns giving each other hushed pep talks--Sollux in the faintly disbelieving voice of someone who’s not used to thinking optimistically.

The walk seems much shorter this time, the air colder.  When they draw level with the gates, the symbols on the stone wall are glowing brightly.  Karkat steps forward to grip one of the wooden bars and the gates open at his touch, revealing a white-paved trail leading into the woods beyond.

“This just gets more an’ more encouraging,” mutters Eridan.

“Just come on,” Karkat snaps, as Kanaya withdraws a flashlight from her bag and flicks it on.  The paving stones gleam pale in the dappled moonlight as they move down the path, the forest on either side thankfully devoid of sudden sounds or movements.

It’s not long until the lodge comes into view.  There are no cars parked in the lot outside, but there’s a dim green light glowing in one of the windows.

“So... _someone’s_  home,” mutters Sollux.

“Uh, Equius,” says Feferi, in the voice of someone who’s been thinking long and hard about something, “didn’t you say your parents played golf here?”

“Yes.”

“So, isn’t there a chance that since the Devil is supposed to still be here...he’s the one that owns it?”

“Possibly.”

“...Oh.  I wonder why he decided to make it a golf course.”

“Maybe it was prime real estate,” Sollux mutters.

Kanaya laughs nervously, aiming the flashlight into the woods as she walks.  “It’s certainly a more reliable way to draw in guests than a sign reading  _Residence of the Lord of Darkness, Souls Devoured, Please Inquire Within for Further Details…_ ”

“That’s very Kan of you, Kan,” says Eridan, snide but not overly so.  There’s a ripple of uneasy chuckles, but after a while the open silence of the night around swallows even those small sounds.  They keep walking.  Karkat doesn’t look back to see who’s flagging, who’s looking pale, who’s breathing a little too hard.  It’ll be easier to keep his nerve if he doesn’t see others losing theirs.

So he marches ahead, eyes fixed steadfastly on the door of the lodge, until eventually he’s standing on the pristine white stoop.  Tavros is the last one to step up behind them, breathing heavily, and Karkat finally turns around as Tavros lets his shoulder fall heavily against one of the posts with a final thump of his cane.

“Alright,” says Karkat.  “We’re all here.  We made it.  I’m going to count to five and then I’m going to knock, and--”

The door opens, silent and smooth.  There’s a man standing behind it, his hands behind his back, all dressed in gleaming white silk, electric green eyes wide and staring, unreached by his thin, too-broad smile.  His face is white, almost the same unnatural pale as Karkat’s but oddly glossy.  There’s a faint gleam of moonlight along the ridge of his brow.

“ _Good evening._ ”

Karkat swallows hard, his heart racing.  The man’s sudden appearance was all the more disturbing for its soundlessness, the door sliding aside to reveal that unblinking stare.

“Come in,” he says, and turns away from the entrance slightly, opening a path.  Everything in Karkat screams to turn around, go back,  _don’t go into a building with this fucking guy._ He suddenly has no trouble believing the Devil exists and that he’s looking at him.

But he forces his right foot forward with a jerk, stubbornness driving his muscles, and as he passes through the doorway Kanaya moves after him.  A moment’s glance back shows no one left on the porch.

And then the door closes and they’re left standing in a tight bunch in the lobby, plush green carpet under their feet.  The man in white maneuvers himself in front of them again; he moves like a machine, but a well-oiled one, full of sliding ball-bearings and perfectly even axles.

“Another set of twelve…remarkable!  Who sent you?  I certainly exercised none of my...somewhat diminished influence over human minds to bring you here.”

“That’s none of your business,” says Kanaya, her voice going up about an octave.

“Are you the Devil?” asks Vriska, with bluntness probably born from whatever passes for fear in her head.

“My name is Doctor Scratch,” he says, looking at each of them in turn—a little bit longer than is comfortable, Karkat thinks.

“They came here just as you did,” he says, “and underwent the same trials you are about to face.  All to save four legendary demon killers who might not even have existed.  And they failed.  None of your dear relatives quite managed to hit the mark, even with the generous hints I allowed them for passing the first test.  I wonder if you will do any better.”

“Relatives?”

He rounds with perfect smoothness on Gamzee, eyes flicking from him to Karkat.  “Your grandfather slit his godfather’s throat, let him... _bleed out_.  Feferi Peixes, whose grandmother stole a dying man’s life for herself…  Tavros Nitram, whose uncle could not spare even enough trust to share a secret and save his comrades.  Vriska Serket, your grandmother did such... _terrible_ things in the name of survival.  I’m sure the young Miss Maryam would not wish to hear about them.  Your predecessors brought themselves to ruin with needless conflict, failing even to choose a leader among them to--”

“Yeah, except none of us  _gives_ a fuck about that,” says Karkat, wondering only briefly whether he should really be speaking for the rest of the group.  “We’re gonna do it, you shiny fucker.  We’ll get them out of here, and for the record,  _I’ll_ be leading these guys.”

From behind him there’s a mixture of additional bravado and warning mutters, but whatever his “team” is thinking, Karkat has the feeling he’s sealed some kind of deal.

This impression solidifies into certainty when Scratch’s smile widens in a singularly disconcerting way and says, “Very well.”

Then he snaps his fingers and the room around them dissolves in a wash of writhing green light.  When it vanishes, Scratch is gone and so is the room they were in.  Instead, they find themselves in a dark stone room, dimly lit by a sourceless, colorless glow.

“What...what are those?” asks Tavros, weakly.  He’s peering at the floor near the walls, where an assortment of white shapes are coming into view.  Karkat squints with a growing sense of unease as his eyes begin to adjust, and then, all of a sudden, the group as a whole seems to realize what they’re seeing.

Eridan makes a gagging sound.  There’s a short, stifled scream that might be Nepeta.  Sollux is breathing a little too fast.  To Karkat’s right, Vriska has pulled a knife out of god knows where and seems to be waiting for something to attack.  Kanaya is standing with her arms close to her sides, eyes closed, breathing quickly through her nose.  Aradia...is giggling softly in apparent delight.

After a while, it becomes apparent that the skeletons, terrifying though they are, aren’t planning to move any time soon. Cautiously, they spread out, stepping over bones and examining the rest of their surroundings.  Kanaya pulls her flashlight out after some rummaging, but after clicking the switch several times with increasing desperation, gives up with a little sigh.

It’s not so bad, anyway, once your eyes have adjusted.  The most noticeable feature, apart from the skeletons, is a waist-high pedestal near one wall with a deep basin perched on top of it.  Above it on the wall are two symbols.  Karkat suspects that they’re probably the ones they’ve been trying to memorize all week, but before he can draw closer to get a better look Aradia says, “Well, some of these people were definitely murdered!”

It takes him a moment to process what she said because her tone of voice is so cheerful, but when it finally soaks in, Karkat feels his gut go cold.

“And just how do you know that?” asks Vriska sharply.  “Did you suddenly become some kind of forensic genius?”

“I wouldn’t call myself a  _genius_ ,” says Aradia after a moment’s consideration.  “I mean, it’s only forensic archaeology, but look, this one looks like…male, between twenty and thirty maybe?Some of his teeth were knocked out--”

“That’s not evidence of  _murder_ , come on AA!” says Sollux, who’s starting to look severely freaked out.  “They might have…fallen out after he decomposed or something!  It’s bad enough knowing we’re looking at the corpses of our fucking  _family members_ ”

Aradia reaches out, delicately shifts the skull this way and that (to a chorus of horrified gasps behind her), and then says, “Nnno, I don’t think so!  They’re not lying anywhere nearby.  I mean, they might not have been  _knocked_ out, I’m just guessing from the nose and cheekbone.  Look, though, that’s not why I think he was murdered!  And the ribs--see, knife wounds!  Also, skeletons don’t count as corpses.”

“You really think he was killed down here?” asks Nepeta, sounding torn between fear and intrigue.

“It’s definitely a possibility,” Aradia replies, eyes wide and shining in the gloom.

“Fascinating,” says Terezi.  Her voice is tight but it’s obvious she can’t help being interested.  She sidles closer to the skeletons, squatting next to Aradia.  “What can you tell about the rest of them?”

“Oh my god,” mumbles Karkat, shuffling towards the only side of the room where there are no skeletons.  Behind him, Eridan is positing wild theories that some kind of psychologically altering gas will come from ducts in the walls, causing all of them to go mad and start killing each other.  While Equius is working his way through a thorough and utterly impatient reply, Karkat looks up at the marks on the wall.

The first symbol on the wall is a red diagonal slice with three drips hanging from its length.  The one beside it looks like two green, curling blades of grass.  When he looks straight at them they seem normal enough, but when he turns his head elsewhere they seem to be glowing faintly in the corner of his eye.

Well, he doesn’t need to look at Aradia’s guide to recognize the first one.  The knife lying next to the basin was enough of a clue on its own.

“Blood,” he says.  “That’s what the bowl’s for.  One of us is going to have to do some kind of…blood sacrifice.”

“What?” says Vriska sharply.  “I didn’t sign up for that!”

“You don’t have to do it, Serket,” snaps Terezi.  “But why don’t you put that knife away in case it ends up somewhere it shouldn’t be?”

Vriska stiffens.  “And what  _exactly_ is that supposed to mean?”

“There is already a knife,” says Equius.  “I don’t see how one more could be an issue in this situation.”

Sollux raises one hand in a sarcastic request for attention.  “Uh, actually  _I_ would be more comfortable to have less sharp things in my vicinity.”

“No one cares what you think, Capt—“

“Rude!” Feferi gasps.  “You can’t just shut him down like, like, that thing you do with Tavros--”

Vriska’s eyes widen.  “Oh, you did  _not_ , Peixes!”

“This is irrelevant to the matter at hand,” says Equius, his voice barely shaking as he examines the basin.  “Which one of us is supposed to do this?  How are we supposed to know?”

Tavros stares at him.   “That’s...a very, uh,  _calm_ thing of you to say.”

“Well, at least  _one_ of us ought to act like a leader,” says Equius, giving Karkat a look so pointed it could draw blood all on its own.

“That would be me,” Karkat snaps, shaking his head vigorously to rid it of the vision of twelve people having some kind of murderfest down here in the dark.  “Alright, there has to be some kind of clue!  What did he tell us?”

“I’ll do it.”

“He said something about  _giving_ us a hint, and then something about our...relatives, I--wait, what?”

“I’ll do it,” says Aradia again, stepping up to the basin as the sudden silence spreads.  When she rolls back one sleeve of her red sweater the pale, stretched lines on her wrist are clearly visible even in the dim lighting.  “I have…experience.”

Tavros gapes at her, mouth working silently as he tries to form words.  Sollux’s face instantly tightens, his eyes narrowing.  “Don’t say that like it’s fucking  _cool_ , don’t act like that’s a, a  _heroic_ thing to say, that’s the worst fucking idea I’ve ever heard.”

“I can do this, Sollux,” she says tonelessly, not meeting his gaze.

“No, you can’t, because I won’t  _let_ you, alright?  End of story.  We just…won’t play his game!  We’re not  _doing_ this, you can’t—not again—“

“Stop being so sensitive, both of you!” growls Karkat, and grabs the knife from Aradia.  “God, just—just tell me how to do it, alright?  I just have to fill it up to the line, right?  That’s…that’s not too much.”  (Actually it might be, his brain supplies unhelpfully.  How many pints of blood can a body lose before there’s no going back?  How the fuck are they going to bind the wound?  Shit shit shit…)

“Not you either!” shouts Sollux, looking genuinely distressed now.  Gamzee grabs Karkat’s wrist, muttering something like  _let go of that now best friend, just let me—_

More to stop everyone arguing than anything, Karkat slices indiscriminately at his other wrist and shoves the injured limb over the basin.

Instantly, he realizes something must be wrong.  It’s not pain, although pain must surely be coming—the cut is larger, deeper than expected, and hot red blood is pouring out of it as though it’s being sucked into the bowl.  His heart skips and pounds uncomfortably and through the ringing building in his ears he can hear Nepeta shouting something.

And then the pain hits, so intense that he has to bite his lip to keep himself from screaming, but he can feel the agonized groans coming from deep in his throat and someone’s trying to pull his arm away from the basin but it  _won’t move_.  The pool of scarlet is rising unnervingly fast towards the line and the rest of his body feels cold while his wrist burns and throbs.

And then it’s full and the flow slows to sluggish red drips and he falls back on the stone floor, dizzy and sick, his breathing shallow.  Through a haze of sweat and tears, he can see a blur of pink and turquoise, a halo of black hair, a pair of worried blue-gray eyes.

 _“If I’m gon’…die…do it…quick,”_ he slurs, but Feferi shakes her head hard, her mouth a tight, straight line.  Bemused, Karkat raises the wrist that was bleeding to see that the cut has somehow turned into something more like a red tattoo—a diagonal slash with three uniform drips falling from it.  As he watches, it glows bright red and vanishes, leaving the skin unmarked.  

The blood he lost, however, doesn’t seem to be returning to his body.  The sounds of everyone panicking are strangely muffled and distant now and he’s still very cold.

 _“…wrong!”_  That’s Feferi’s voice.  What’s she talking about?   _“Life, right?  But…sn’t have to be his…I want to…”_

And then there’s Sollux complaining about something.  God, he complains too much.

Hot, soft hands cup his face.  Karkat thinks this is nice.  His lips are starting to go numb and he could use the heat.  He sees, with a moment’s remarkable clarity, a little green mark on Feferi’s arm that wasn’t there before, like two curly blades of grass.  And then her blurry face starts to vanish into little explosions of blackness and Karkat doesn’t think much of anything.

He sinks gratefully into what feels like the best nap he’s ever had, and then a feeling like a lightning bolt made of ice-cold energy drink slams into him.  For a single flashing moment, he sees only pure, bright blue, and then suddenly he’s wide awake again.  He sits suddenly bolt-upright and says  _“FUCK!”_ as loudly as he can.

“Did it work?” asked Feferi, and then gasps as her forearm glows green.  The little mark Karkat saw shines and then vanishes, the same way his did.

Then everything goes dark--the true cold pitch-black of an underground room.  But before anyone can so much as form a coherent sentence, light returns.  They might almost be in the same room, but the blood-filled basin is gone and there’s a different pair of symbols on the wall, indistinct in the shadows.

“How did you  _do_ that?” asks Karkat, staring at Feferi.

“I didn’t!” she says, looking unnerved.  “That wasn’t me, I just--”

“Not the dark, I mean...the thing where you only  _brought me the fuck back to life_.”

“I…well, after you…after you did that, the green mark turned up on my arm and it matched the Life one on the wall and I thought…I thought, that makes it seem like someone’s supposed to sacrifice their life!  But I didn’t want it to be you so I thought…I would give you some of mine instead?”

“And that worked?”

“Well apparently!” says Feferi, holding her hands out towards him as though presenting him as evidence in an argument.  “But I had this feeling…that letting you go would also be an option.”  She shudders, and turns to examine the “new” room.  “If they’re all going to be this vague and this  _dangerous_ , this is going to be really hard!”

Kanaya, who’s been digging in her duffel bag ever since the light returned, bends down to hand Karkat one of her waterbottles.  He uncaps it gratefully and, after several long, refreshing draws, hauls himself to his feet to the two new signs.  The one on the left looks like a spiky black skull and the other could be a pair of white, shining wings.

“Everybody check your arms,” Karkat rasps.  He’s not at all sure that whatever Feferi did replenished all of his blood, though it must have done enough to keep him alive.  In the aftershocks of the life bolt, he feels faint; his knees are going through a rebellious phase and his eyelids keep trying to fall lopsidedly.  Dimly, he observes that everyone else is following his direction, rolling up sleeves and peering at their forearms in the dim light.

Aradia finishes checking her own arm, where a red gear shape is stamped on her skin, and then looks back up at the wall.  “That’s Doom and Hope.  I guess they go in sets?”

“Doom, huh?” says Sollux, smiling a humorless, crooked smile.  “That’s pretty fucking abstract, I wonder what I’m supposed to do.”

Eridan groans.  “Oh, come  _on_ …”

“Eridan?”  Feferi looks worried.  “Does that mean you’re…the Hope person, I guess?”

He nods miserably, staring at his wrist.

“Maybe you’re supposed to…give up hope,” Karkat manages, and then groans and staggers sideways into a wall, which he leans gratefully against.

“What, so then I  _give up doom_?” Sollux snaps.  “That doesn’t make any sense, KK!”

“I don’t--”

“What’s that?” asks Eridan, and it’s practically a whisper--not something Karkat would ordinarily interrupt a tirade for.  But there’s something in the harmonics of Eridan’s voice that gives Karkat pause.

He’s looking at something on the floor beneath the Hope symbol on the wall, lying at the epicenter of a white circle.  As the others turn to follow his gaze, he moves with small, abrupt steps towards it.

Feferi nudges Sollux aside, peering through the closely-grouped bodies, and suddenly gasps--a tiny, piercing noise.  “But how could it--”

“This is un _real_ ,” says Eridan, kneeling to pick up the thing and roll it between his fingertips.  “I don’t...I don’t understand…”

“What,” says Terezi, in plaintive annoyance, “is everyone staring at?  This darkness is fraying my nerves as it is, now  _why is Eridan so worried about what looks like a little white stick?_ ”

“It’s a _wand_ ,” says Vriska, taking a moment even in this situation to inject a little gleeful mockery into her tone.  “Like the one he  _made_ for himself when we were kids.”

“Shut up,” says Eridan, but with none of his usual rancor.  

In fact, it’s Feferi who gives Vriska a sharp look and says, “You say that like it’s a bad thing!”

“I don’t know about bad,” says Vriska, grinning nastily.  “Lame, maybe?”

“Rude!”

“Whatever,” says Sollux distractedly, ducking past Feferi and Vriska as they glare at each other.  “What’s...this?  How come there’s nothing in the circle under Doom?”

A closer look reveals that there is, indeed, another circle--this one in black, but devoid of any significant childhood belongings.  Sollux steps carefully around it and then, drawn by natural curiosity, puts one foot and then the other inside the ring.

In the instant Karkat opens his mouth to idly ask whether that’s made a difference, Sollux sucks in a breath through his teeth and grips his head with both hands.

“Sollux?”  Feferi moves forward immediately, reaching out towards him.  “Is it a migraine?  Are you okay?  Can I-- _oh!_ ”

She gasps as Sollux staggers out of the circle, and everyone else in the room echoes the pained noise--Karkat included.  This is because his head suddenly feels like it’s about to split open, a painful buzz drilling through his temples, droning behind his eyes.  Next to him, Tavros drops awkwardly to the ground, his cane clattering away from him.

 _“Guys?’_ That’s Sollux, his voice faint through the ringing in Karkat’s ears.   _“Guy’s, what’s--shit shit shit--”_

“My head hurts,” says Karkat, although it comes out more like, “ _Hhhhnnnnghh!_ ”

_“Is this part of the test?  What am I supposed to--okay--shit--okay.”_

It’s getting worse.  There’s something stretching in his head, his throat.  His eyes are burning, tears leaking from the corners.  Through blurry eyes, he can see Sollux, apparently no longer in pain, leaning over a kneeling, groaning Terezi.  Then even that disappears from view as his own knees give out and dark spots ripple across his vision--

And then it’s gone.

The sudden surcease is almost as much of a shock as Feferi’s magical life transferral.  All Karkat wants to do is lie limp on the floor and revel in the absence of pain, but now he can hear Sollux clearly again.  The groans of pain.

Feferi and Terezi are already standing by Sollux, who’s crouching in the black circle again, his head bowed, rocking back and forth.

“So,” says Terezi, still taking deep, stablizing breaths, “it’s a sacrificial trial?  When you’re in the circle, you endure extreme pain, but if you step out to relieve it, we experience it instead.  Alright.  Alright.”

“Sollux,” Feferi murmurs, her eyes bright, “Sollux, come on, you have to step out, you have to--”

Sollux shakes his head weakly, then turns slightly to give Karkat a warning look.  Karkat, who had been moving forward with every intention of pulling Sollux out of the circle, swallows hard, staring back into a face lax and stretched with pain.

“Oh god oh  _god_ \--”

_“KK, ssshhhfut.  Upp.”_

Sollux’s voice is muffled; he sounds like someone who’s still waiting for the effects of anesthetic to fade after dental surgery.  Karkat drops against a wall, his knees threatening to collapse yet again, his heart hammering with panic.   _“Oh fuck oh god oh fuck oh god oh--”_

“Sollux, we had a  _deal_!”

Sollux’s head snaps around and he glares at Aradia with accusatory, bloodshot eyes.  He’s bleeding from the mouth, his breaths wet and thick.  He doesn’t speak, but she withdraws immediately, biting her lip and looking down.

“...That’s not fair,” she murmurs, and then her lips tighten as he reaches out and grips her wrist for a moment.  His thumb tucks under her sleeve, then drops away as red starts trickling down his cheeks.

Then his eyes slide up again, focusing blearily past her, and Aradia turns to see Eridan pointing the wand right at Sollux’s face.  His hand is shaking.

“Eridan?”

“I ain’t--fuckin’--lettin’ this happen,” Eridan grinds out, his face white in the dim light.  “I may hate your guts but you don’t deserve--an’ you made Fef happy!  So goddammit if magic exists--”

Feferi stares at him, open-mouthed.  “I--Eridan, is now really--”

“I dunno, maybe!” Eridan manages, screwing up his face.  “I gotta try  _somethin’_ \-- _c’mon c’mon’cmon_ \--”

 _“Th’not...workginnnn...ED,”_ Sollux slurs, blood dripping from his lips.

“Shut up!”

Feferi’s crying, pulling at Sollux’s arm in a genuine effort to move him, but he’s still resisting.  Aradia’s turned her back, her head bowed while Tavros whispers urgently in an attempt to get an answer out of her.

“Magic,” says Eridan, and then swallows hard as though the word is making him choke and tries again.  “ _Magic_ had better fuckin’ be real or I swear to fuckin’ god I’ll never forgive myself!”

The wand flashes white.  Darkness falls.

When it lifts again, Sollux is lying on the floor, and for one gut-wrenching moment Karkat thinks he must be dead.  But the blood is gone and even as Feferi hurries to take his pulse, his eyes flicker open and he sucks in a huge, grateful breath.

“Holy fuck,” whispers Eridan, and then, as an apparent afterthought, he looks down at his tight-clenched hand.  The wand is gone.  On the wall are two new symbols--six curving white marks connecting at a central point to make a shape almost like a whirlpool, and an orange sun, wavy, pointed rays spreading from a wide circle--and on the floor precisely between them…

“It’s a box,” says Gamzee, tilting his head and squinting into the darkness.

“What’s all that stuff wrapped around it?” asks Nepeta

“Space and Light,” says Aradia, dragging her gaze away from Sollux.  “Whose are those?”

Vriska is the first forward, dropping eagerly to the ground by the little box and calling, as though in an afterthought, “Light!”.  Kanaya is close behind, slower, still looking at her wrist with a faint frown.

“Oh, I bet I can get this open,” Vriska murmurs, turning the box over and over in her hands.  It’s small, maybe only a couple inches in any given dimension, but the ropes securing its lid are strung through metal loops and the knot they’re tangled into is almost as large as the box itself.  Vriska shakes it vigorously, and grins at the resulting rattle.

“Vriska, I think you should give that to me.”

The grin fades.  “What?  Why?  Any reason for that, Fussyface?”

“It’s Space, then Light,” says Kanaya, pointing at the wall.  “It went in order the first two times as well--Blood, then Life, Doom, then Hope.”

“But the box was  _between_ them,” says Terezi.  “Perhaps you’re meant to work together.”

“Or  _perhaps_ ,” says Kanaya, pulling insistently at the box, “whatever’s inside this is meant for Vriska, while I have to open it?”

“What does that...have to do with space?” Vriska grunts, tightening her grip on the ropes.

“Tests...spatial intelligence?” murmurs Sollux, making both of them jump.  He’s still lying where he fell, propped against the wall with his eyes barely open, but he’s let his head loll to one side so that he can watch the proceedings.

“Does that count?” asks Nepeta, sounding doubtful.  

Vriska opens her mouth to reply, but in the moment of her distraction Kanaya manages to wrest the box from her hands, giving Nepeta an emphatic nod as she secures it in her arms.  Nepeta shrugs.

After the intense shock of the previous tasks, this one seems almost comedically mundane.  Tavros lowers himself carefully to the ground, and soon after others follow suit--Karkat among them.  Gamzee lies down on his back, occasionally tilting his head back to check for any progress.  Eventually, they resemble nothing so much as a strange assortment of kindergarten children gathered around a couple of teachers.

At first, they wait on tenterhooks.  After a minute, gazes begin to wander.  Equius murmurs something to Nepeta about give him some mental math problems, and briefly becomes the new center of attention due to his uncanny ability to multiply four-digit numbers with ease.  After five minutes spent on and off watching Kanaya pick fruitlessly at the huge knot, the group starts offering suggestions.

“You should use my knife to pry it apart,” says Vriska, her voice slightly muffled.  She’s been resting one cheek in her hand so long that her mouth is stretched crooked.  She looks supremely bored.

“No,” says Kanaya shortly.

“Maybe...bang it against the wall a little?” says Gamzee, rolling over on the floor to look at the box right-side-up.

“No.”

“Perhaps there’s some other  _‘magical’_ solution to the problem,” Terezi offers.

“Okay, hear me out, maybe it’s like the Gordian Knot,” says Eridan.  “You know, knot’s supposed to be impossible to untie because you couldn’t find the end of it, but Alexander the Great--”

Kanaya snorts loudly, still bent over the box, and says in a voice of threadbare patience, “Eridan, I hardly think your extensive knowledge of mythology is relevant here.  The sign means Space and it’s testing my spatial skills.  It’s perfectly straightforward!”

“Like any of these have been straightforward so far!” snaps Eridan, stung.  “Sol practically had to kill himself an’ I had to make myself believe in  _magic_?  Look, I’m just sayin’, maybe you got the wrong idea here.  Ain’t there anythin’ in that bag you could cut through it with?”

“You don’t just cut through knots!” Kanaya exclaims, smacking the floor with one hand.  Eridan actually takes a step back, drawing his hands nervously up to fiddle with his scarf.  “You have to work and pick at them and untangle them and eventually they come undone, all nice and neat!  Otherwise  _someone could get hurt_!”

There’s a brief, awkward pause during which Kanaya continues to tug ineffectually at the ropes, and then, slowly, her hands still and loosen.  Looking closer, Karkat can see that her fingertips are red and worn.  She’s breathing hard through her nose, glaring at the floor.

“Um,” says Feferi.

Kanaya exhales and finally raises her head, revealing a rueful, somewhat flushed face.  “Did I really just say that aloud?”

There’s a murmur of general assent.  Kanaya sighs, glancing back down at the box, and then slides the strap of her bag off of her shoulder and unzips it.  After a moment’s rummaging, she withdraws...

“Gardening shears?” says Nepeta, looking earnestly surprised.  “What did you think we’d need those for?”

“I personally have found them to be versatile, multi-purpose tools,” says Kanaya with a little of her usual exquisite dignity.  “It always pays to be prepared!”

“Thought we were gonna encounter some particularly vicious shrubbery, did you?” Eridan snipes, apparently still sore about her initial dismissal of his Gordian Knot theory.  Kanaya opens her mouth to retort, but perhaps it occurs to her why he might be so sour, because she stops and instead gives him a stiff little shrug.  

Turning her attention back to the shears, she tests the blades, which make a deadly, ringing  _shnick shnick_ noise as she snaps them open and shut.  Apparently satisfied, she hooks the slimmer blade under the knot, repositions herself so that her weight is over the handles, and takes one deep breath before driving them together with all her might.

The rope hardly seems to resist at all.  In fact, as the knot falls neatly away in two halves, the tangles slither easily apart, loose and limp as they pool on the floor.  On her wrist, the shining white Space mark vanishes.

“Yes!” says Kanaya, sagging with relief.  The trembling of her hands is only faintly apparent as she lifts the lid of the box.  Everyone leans forward a little.

Inside, something blue glimmers.  Vriska, who had finally straightened up in interest to watch Kanaya cut the ropes, immediately ducks forward and scoops up the contents with glee.  “It’s a set of eight d8s,” she says, grinning as she inspects one of the little dice between thumb and forefinger.  “I guess these rooms really do know what they’re doing!”

“Vriska,” says Kanaya slowly, “I’m not sure…”

“Light means luck,” says Vriska almost to herself.  “And I’ve got the best luck out of anyone here!  I’ll just roll until I get something high enough to let us through!”

“Here we go,” says Terezi wearily.  Vriska ignores her, cupping the dice in both hands and shaking them vigorously before letting them roll across the stone floor.  Kanaya stands up abruptly to avoid them, leaning over curiously to check the outcome of the throw.

After only a second’s examination, however, Vriska sweeps up the dice again and, again, shakes them in both hands.  Their soft clicking is the only sound in the dead silence of the underground room.

It’s not unlike watching Kanaya try to undo the knot.  It’s not a painful, panicking struggle like Sollux’s trial, but the quiet, contained frenzy of a small task that has turned out not to be as easy as it should be.  Again and again, the dice clatter across the stone floor, and every time Vriska gathers them back up again.

“Higher,” she mutters fiercely, preparing to throw for what has to be the twentieth time.  “Maybe the highest possible, okay, eight eights.  Okay.”  She lets the little octahedrons spill from her hand, but scrapes them back again almost immediately.  “Okay,  _fuck_ , I can  _do_ this!”

Terezi opens her mouth as though about to say something, then seems to think better of it.  Although she surely can’t see the results of the throws, her gaze is fixed on Vriska’s hunched form, her mouth tight.

It’s Eridan who finally breaks the busy silence.  “...Vris, c’mon, take a break.  Maybe you need to think about it in a different way or somethin’.”

“Fuck that, it’s a set of fucking  _dice_!” Vriska snaps, then yelps as he skins her knuckles trying to scoop up the d8s again.  She subsides into muffled profanity, sucking at her hand.

“Uh...Vriska,” says Tavros--slowly, as though every word takes an effort.  “I think, you know, maybe, Eridan has a point--”

“No!  I can do this!  I’m  _lucky_!  Or…”  She falters, glaring with over-bright eyes down at the dice in her bleeding hand.  “Or...I used to be.”

Kanaya, clearly already frustrated with this state of affairs, actually throws her hands in the air in disbelief before snapping them back down to rest on her hips.  “Vriska.  You are not  _lucky_.  You’re smart, you’re determined, you’re…you’re an ambitious, brave girl, but sometimes you are just… _intolerable!_ You need to rely on all those good things about yourself instead of letting good or bad luck rule your life!  Now  _give me the dice_!”

Vriska stares, slack-jawed, up at Kanaya, then mutely down at her hand, clenched tight and white-knuckled around the dice.  Her face hardens and for a second it seems she might refuse, but then she lifts her fist and lets the dice drop into Kanaya’s waiting palm.  And in that instant, the orange sun on her arm shines bright and fades.

“There,” says Kanaya gently.  “Now we’re done.  I don’t think I need to roll them, do I?”

Even as she says it, the room goes dark.

When the light returns, most of the group is already looking expectantly to the wall where the symbols have appeared each time.  This time it’s the sweeping blue waves and the green oval with three rippling lines extending from its contours.

“Breath and Mind,” says Aradia slowly, glancing back at the rest of the group.

“Karkat,” Terezi murmurs, holding out her arm to him, “I’m 99 percent positive this is Mind.  Confirm, please.”

“Yeah,” says Karkat, looking from the green shape on her arm to the wall.  “But if Kanaya’s right--and she has been so far--then the first one up is--”

“Breath?” says Tavros uneasily.  He’s also looking down at his arm, frowning slightly.  After a moment, he glances furtively at Sollux.  “If I have to, for instance, hold my breath until I pass out or something--”

“Breath can mean a lot of things, remember?” says Aradia.

Tavros gives an awkward little one-shouldered shrug.  “Yeah, I guess so, but giving up freedom or, uh, flight, or whatever, doesn’t seem like much fun either, so…?”

“Well there isn’t a circle of grim death under your sign on the wall,” says Sollux acerbically, “so I don’t think that’s a problem.”

“Maybe you just need faith and trust and pixie dust, hmm?”  That’s Vriska, giving Tavros what seems to be an attempt at her usual cocky grin.  The taunt--whatever relevance it might have to them--comes across weak and hollow in Karkat’s opinion, but Tavros’s shoulders still stiffen at the words.

“I--don’t think...that now is, really, the best time, for comments like that…”

“Tavros,” says Feferi suddenly, “keep talking for a little while, okay?”

“What?”

“There it is!”  Feferi, who was standing behind Tavros, moves around until she’s facing him, one hand gently taking his wrist and drawing his arm up to eye level.  Both of them look at the blue mark, Feferi watchful, Tavros blank.

“...Okay,” says Tavros after a moment, “I’m not sure what I’m supposed to--”

“There it is again!” Feferi gasps--everyone else draws in closer.  Tavros’s arm is the center of attention, something he’s obviously less than comfortable with because he tries to pull it out of Feferi’s grip.  She pulls him gently back, pointing at the symbol on his skin.

“Say something else,” she says, and then, conscientiously, “Pleeeeaaase?”

Tavros clears his throat, his eyes fixed resolutely on his arm--possibly as an alternative to meeting the gazes aimed in his direction--and says, “My name is Tavros Nitram.”

This time everyone sees it; the blue sign flickers with light as though responding to his voice.  Tavros immediately pulls away from Feferi and stares at it as though waiting for it to vanish.

“So it’s...something I have to say?” Tavros manages, sounding almost more disturbed than before.  “That could be anything!”

“Say something about dicks,” says Sollux, with just the barest hint of a high-pitched giggle on the last word.

“Don’t,” says Equius immediately, glaring at him.

“You wanna go, Zahhak?”

“ _Sollux_ ,” say Terezi and Feferi at the same time, and then, catching each other’s eye, have a moment of shared concern and exasperation.

“Keep thinking about it, Tavros,” says Feferi kindly, putting an arm around Sollux’s shoulders.  “Come on, we’re going to be alright.  Alright?”

Aradia steps forward as Sollux, Terezi, and Feferi move towards one of the walls to sit down.  “Is it really any wonder this would be your test?  Public speaking was never your forte, after all.  But I’m sure you can do it!”

“Yeah,” says Vriska quickly, putting a hand on his shoulder.  “You’ve got this!”

“Public speaking…” Tavros mumbles, half to himself.  Then, seeming almost to shake himself back to alertness, he says, “It wasn’t actually, really, speaking that bothered me, though, it was the...the sharing, I guess.  Just talking to people.  Maybe I was afraid of being mocked, or laughed at, something like that?”

“Then  _maaaaaaaaybe_ you should say something embarrassing about yourself!” says Vriska cheerfully.  “Shouldn’t be too hard!”

“Shouldn’t be too hard to feel embarrassed, anyway,” Aradia replies mildly.  Vriska gives her a hard, suspicious look, which Aradia counters with her signature terrifyingly intense grin.

And then Tavros half-yells into the uncomfortable pause, “I still play Pokemon in my free time!”

The declaration actually seems to echo for a moment, during which Tavros stares desperately at his wrist, his face going redder and redder as the Breath sign fails once again to vanish.

“Okay,” says Sollux from his place in the corner, “who  _doesn’t_ still play fucking Pokemon? Was that supposed to be a secret or something?”

“Shut up, Captor,” snaps Vriska, glaring in his direction.  “The thing really started glowing for a moment when he said it, even if it’s about the dumbest, nerdiest thing--”

“Pokemon’s great!” says Nepeta brightly.  “Did you like Ruby and Sapphire?”

“Uh,” says Tavros.

“It tells you when you’ve caught all the pokemon in the area,” Karkat volunteers, “that’s pretty fucking nice.”

Vriska groans.  “Are we  _really_ doing this now?  Remember about the fate of the fucking  _world_?  Fussyface, back me up!”

“I thought the new version of Mauville was somewhat disappointing,” says Kanaya, appearing not to hear her.  And Vriska, red in the face again, rounds on Tavros instead.

“Well?  Aren’t you going to  _do_ something?”

Tavros takes a step back, avoiding her gaze.  “I’m...working on it, but, it’s not easy to think of things to say, and it’s hard, after the stuff that everyone else had to do--I mean, we all need to relax and--”

“No!  We  _don’t_ ‘need to relax’, we need to get shit done!  We’re not through here and we can’t waste time talking about fucking  _Pokemon_!”

Tavros actually physically sways backwards, but this time he doesn’t retreat.  Instead, he straightens and squares his shoulders

“Actually, I don’t think that’s as much of a problem as you’re saying it is.  So--”

“God, Tavros, why is it always like this with you?  You’re never  _really_ on my side, you’re just--”

“I think, we should--”

“--always hesitating and stuttering and  _complaining_ and--

“We’re  _done_!”

“--What?”

Tavros swallows hard and then says, very clearly, “Vriska…I don’t want to be...together, with you, anymore.”

The silence that follows isn’t even the ordinary silence of an enclosed, underground place.  It’s  _louder_ than that, thundering with apprehension and, above all, the sucking absence where Vriska’s voice should have been.  There should have been shouting and yelling, or ingratiating sweetness, or even an indignant gasp.

Then Terezi murmurs, “Does that count as a secret?” and Vriska looks for a moment so suddenly wild with rage that anyone within a couple feet of her takes several hasty steps back.  But although her hands are tightly clenched, Vriska seems somehow unable to bring herself to deal out a single blow.  Terezi, seeming to sense that she’s crossed a line, is uncharacteristically non-confrontational.

“I’ve wanted, for actually quite a while, to break up with you,” Tavros says, in the voice of someone who wants to help somehow but has no idea how to proceed.  “I just...don’t think we’re, so to speak, exactly the best fit?  And, you know, also since, you never apologized for the car crash, which I think, you were at least partially responsible f--”

“Tavros,” says Aradia gently, “the mark on your wrist is gone.”

“I--oh,” says Tavros, glancing down at his arm and then sheepishly back up at Vriska.  “Uh, right.  Okay.  I guess that’s done, then.  Um.  What’s next?”

“Maybe it’s got to do with this motherfucker here,” says Gamzee, pointing at something across the room.  Everyone turns to look at the small dark rectangle on the floor.  It does not lie, like the other mysterious props before it, under one  of the signs on the wall, but off to one side in a place where none of them were quite looking.  This is something of a feat when the room is quite small and occupied by twelve people, but nonetheless most of the twelve find themselves thinking,  _Was that really there before?_

And then they realize that something else is different.

Terezi moves sharply to pick up the wallet, which is a simple thing made of black leather.  She opens it, inspects the insides, checks every pocket, and in short order withdraws a wad of green paper.

“Well,” she says, “this certainly is money!  But whoever has placed it here did not have the decency to fold it the way I do to keep track of what bills they are.  Would someone who isn’t just seeing a lima bean-green blur please tell me how much money I am holding?”

And then she says, “Why are you all waving at your mouths?”

And then, “You can’t speak?”

And then, “Well don’t  _panic_.  Someone hold up fingers--not  _that_ one, Mister Cherrycheeks--and let me know how much I have here!”

She works it out with Equius eventually, asking first what’s in the ones column (he holds up a fist), then the tens (another fist), and then, disbelievingly, the hundreds.  Equius holds up five broad fingers and Terezi raises her eyebrows.

“...Alright, then,” she says.  “It’s a puzzle.  And I have the pieces to figure out what it is!   _Mind_ , that’s simple enough.  The wallet with five hundred dollars in it, and I’m the only one who can talk.  Oh!  You know sign language, Nepeta?  If I also did, that would be a great help.  Still, I’m not sure any of you are  _supposed_ to help…”

She paces back and forth, her cane skittering over the floor as she talks, half to herself and half to her silent captive audience.

“It doesn’t belong to any of us, or one of you would have stepped forward by now.  Unless there’s a secret you’re trying to hide!  But I think it’s more likely to be a generic item, wouldn’t you?  Yes.  It’s a symbol.  But what of?  Is it something that I, culturally speaking, should already be aware of?   _You!_ ”

She swings her cane around with an almost audible  _snap_ , pointing it straight at Vriska.  “Blueberryhair!  What would you do with five hundred dollars?”

Vriska rolls her eyes in the special way she reserves for Terezi--the one that involves not only her eyes but her head and shoulders as well.  She points at her mouth and spreads her hands dramatically, scowling.

“Ah,” says Terezi, apparently unconcerned with this silent retort, “but then why the wallet and not just the money?  What does the wallet entail?  That it belongs to someone else!   _What_ \--” she swings her cane around, this time pointing it at Feferi--”would you do if you found a wallet on the street with five hundred dollars in it?  You’ve heard that question before, haven’t you?  Yes, I think most people have!  Oh, that is quite clever!  No, of course you can’t tell me either, and anyway, people do lie.  Alright, maybe not  _you_ , but that is not my point.”

She grins her shark grin.  “I have to answer for all of us.  And I supposed I might as well start with myself.  Upon finding a wallet such as this one, I would examine it--asking someone else for the smaller visual details, of course.  And if a name presented itself, as they often do when it comes to a person’s cards, I would use whatever other resources were available to discover where they lived and deliver it to them.  It would be a fun little challenge!”

“Now, Vriska...you wouldn’t take  _all_ the money, would you?  Maybe just a nice two hundred, and then, feeling magnanimous, you might drop the wallet back where you found it.  Unless, of course, you knew the owner!  Then you wouldn’t take any of the money, but you would certainly hold the ‘favor’ over the owner’s head upon returning it.  No, I don’t care how much you shake your head at me, it needs to be the truth!”

“Equius!  I haven’t known you very long at all, but your apparent integrity combined with your general apathy means you would probably take the bare minimum of action: dropping it off at the nearest lost and found!”

“Cherrycheeks.  Alright,  _Karkat._ You would instantly stand up and shout at the street in general-- _DID SOMEONE DROP THEIR WALLET?!_ \--something like that!  Possibly without checking to see what was inside it at all.  And then, if no one came forward, you would drop it in embarrassment and stomp away.”

And she continues through the group, ignoring voiceless protests and glares as only she can.  Kanaya would also go to the lost and found; Nepeta would ask around until she found the owner; Aradia would leave it in a visible place for the owner to find; Gamzee would pick it up, put it in his pocket, and forget about it; Sollux would pick it up with the intention of returning it, but give up on the idea shortly after; Feferi would go to the lost and found but return regularly to see whether it had been retrieved.

“And you…”  She pauses for the first time, mouth tightening as she looks directly into Tavros’s eyes.  He manages to hold her stare, his eyes still watering a little, until she ducks her head, grinning at some private joke.

“…Ten minutes ago I would have said something different,” she says slowly.  “But you would take it to the owner in person.  Maybe you would stutter, but you would still explain the whole situation in detail.  You’d assure them that you didn’t take it in the first place and that all their money and cards were still there.  You would want to be there.”

“Well...yeah, I guess,” says Tavros, and then looks surprised at the sound of his own voice.

Darkness falls.

On the wall this time are Void--dark, spiraling lines configured something like the Space sign, but split apart so that the center is empty--and Heart--a halved magenta valentine shape, one side with a notch taken out that follows the outer contour of the shape.

“We’re almost done,” says Terezi brightly.  “Just four more tests!  This has almost been enjoyable, except maybe for the parts where people almost died.”

Sollux grimaces.  “Thanks for the mention, TZ.”

“Oh, yeah,” says Karkat, bristling, “because  _I_ didn’t lose fucking gallons of blood!”

“Right, sorry, I forgot  _everything_ has to be about you!”

“Is anyone else wondering exactly what the logic behind these combinations is?” asks Kanaya loudly, nudging Karkat’s arm.  “If there is such a thing as opposing couples in this set of symbols, I would have expected them to go together.”

“For that matter, who has Void and Heart?” asks Feferi, obviously intent on getting everyone back on track.  Next to her, Equius raises his arm silently, displaying the Void mark.  Out of the corner of his eye, Karkat glimpses someone doing the same and turns around to see who it is.

“I’m Heart, I remember from before.  I…I think I know what I  need to do,” says Nepeta, a little shakily.  “Kind of like Tavros, I think!  Um…”

Karkat swallows hard, aware that her gaze keeps flickering in his direction.  Something inside him is screaming,  _This isn’t the time or place for this, I can’t deal with this right now and neither can she_ , but he doesn’t know what to say or even if there’s anything  _to_ say.

So he’s almost relieved when Sollux starts having a breakdown.

“What about Void?  Isn’t void just, like…nothingness?” asks Sollux.  “Fuck,  _fuck_ , that’s just great, we’re gonna die.   _I_ thought I was gonna die and you gotta give up…nothing.  Great.”

Equius gives him a half-hearted glare.

“Just give it all the nothing you have!” says Sollux, with just a hint of hysterical laughter in his voice.  “Just be like,  _here, I have all this nothing, now can we go through?  Thanks!”_

Terezi smacks him across the shins with her cane.  In the relative silence that follows, while Sollux hops and utters muffled profanity, Equius takes another step towards the sign on the wall, staring up at it.

“I have nothing…” he says.  Sollux gives a wild, nervous little giggle and Terezi, clearly fed up, grabs his boney shoulders and pulls him into a sitting position for some impromptu breathing exercises.

“I have nothing,” says Equius again, louder now.  “I have no friends.  I feel I have no family.  Nothing makes me happy.  I feel empty all the time.  You…you can have  _that_.”  His voice rises for a moment on the last word, with something that sounds something like his usual anger but…heavier, somehow.  In the open, echoing silence that follows, Karkat cranes his neck to get a look at the mark on Equius’s arm.   

The dark circle of curved dashes is still there.

And then, slowly, with a slow gleam rather than a sudden flash, the Void mark vanishes.  Equius doesn’t move.  He doesn’t seem to want to look at any of them.

Nepeta says, “Oh…” very softly.

And then she starts threading her way through the silently watching group.  Her eyes are fixed on Equius but she gives Karkat a small, sad smile as she passes, walking until she’s reached Equius standing alone at the front of the room.  She only comes up to his chest but she stretches up to put a hand on his shoulder.  He twitches faintly, turning his head away from her.

“Hey!” she says, and her voice is loud and bold again now.  “You’ve got me, dumbass!  Come on, look over here.  Come on, look at me.  We can be friends!  I think we’d be pretty good at it.”

Equius turns back just a little, a shock of hair hiding his eyes.  His shoulders tremble slightly as he inhales.  “But…”

“I know,” says Nepeta, matter-of-factly, “you’re sweaty and angry and snobby.  I don’t care.”

“ _You_ ,” says Equius, looking somewhat affronted now, “swear too much and are altogether too reckless and impolite!”

Nepeta smiles brightly.  “Exactly!  Think how much we could help each other out!  Come on, hugs.”

“But—“

Apparently in no mood for his protests, Nepeta crouches down a little and leaps up to wrap her arms around his neck.  He makes some undignified, unusually high-pitched noises, waving his big arms around in apparent bewilderment.  Eventually, though, his shouts turning into grumbles and he gingerly lets his hands settle over Nepeta’s shoulders.

“Bros?” she says.

“Um,” says Equius.

“Bros, yes or no?  You can at  _least_ do a trial run!”

“Uh…yes…bros,” says Equius, his face bright red even in the darkness.

As everything goes dark, Gamzee says, “That is just the  _sweetest_ thing I ever done to hear.”

When it lifts, the two signs on the wall are the curly purple design that Karkat can’t help seeing as an angry face now that he knows what it means, and the red gear.  Rage and Time.

“Looks like you’re up first, Gamzee,” he says, and then, when he doesn’t get a reply, “...Gamzee?”

He turns around and there’s someone else in the room with them.

It’s an old white man with shaggy black hair and eyes that aren’t dark like Gamzee’s but bright, bright blue.  He circles around Gamzee, both there and not there, and even though he’s a dead man and Karkats knows Gamzee never met him in person, it’s obvious that he recognizes the ghost.

“ _Grandpa_ ,” he croaks.

“Holy fuck holy fuck holy fuck,” Sollux mutters, his voice hoarse, “how did he--how is that--”

“I can see through him just a little bit,” says Feferi slowly, and although her words are calm her hand is shaking on Sollux’s shoulder.  “I don’t think he’s really here, like the rest of the things that turned up…”

**Gamzee Makara.**

The voice is a deep, soft thrum which fills the brain without the help of soundwaves.  Gamzee winces and claps his hands ineffectually over his ears, while inside Karkat the urge to step forward and defend his friend somehow battles the instinctive knowledge that interfering would be a very bad idea.

“So he’s a ghost?” hisses Eridan.  “I’m not sure that’s a comfort!  He’s, like, one a the skeletons back in that first room!”

**I always knew you’d be a disappointment, boy.  We did, your grandmother and me both.  Don’t matter how much you look like your daddy, we knew no good’d come of you.**

To Karkat’s surprise and concern, Gamzee laughs shakily and says, “Yeah, that’s about motherfuckin’ right, that’s okay…  You’re right, Grandpa…”

**We took you in, fed you, clothed you, paid for your schoolin’.**

“Yeah…thanks…”

**DISAPPOINTMENT.**

The word vibrates in Karkat’s skull, and by the way everyone else makes noises of protest, he thinks they must feel it too.  He suspects that it’s worse for Gamzee than anyone else, but Gamzee’s only response is to shrink further in on himself, nodding wordlessly.

 **It tested all of us for something,** says Grandpa Makara, still circling.  It seems as though he’s just telling a story, but Karkat has an awful, nagging feeling that he isn’t done.   **He tested my** ** _rage_** **.  But you, you gormless sack of horseshit, you** ** _got_** **none.  I was already angry, I got roped into this with WOPs and niggers and fuckin’ chinks, but** ** _you_** **—**

Karkat finds himself speechless for once.  To his left, Feferi gasps audibly.  

“ _This_ is your grandpa?” says Sollux, staring at Gamzee.  “I thought you said your family  _wasn’t that bad_.”

“’s from a different kind of place is all,” mumbles Gamzee, not looking up.  “Took care of me.  Owe ‘em.”

“Are you even listening to yourself?” Sollux snaps, and Vriska nods, sneering at the ghost with one hand in the pocket where she keeps her knife.  Everyone else seems caught somewhere between fury, terror, and disbelief.  Gamzee doesn’t answer.  He doesn’t look at any of them.

 **Wouldn’t expect anything else from a fucking halfbreed,** says the ghost, his soundless voice soft again but building in anger.   **You may have your daddy’s eyes but ain’t no hiding the fucking curls, little nappy-headed whelp.**

“My momma--!” says Gamzee, but he seems to choke on the words and they hang helplessly in the air.  When Grandpa Makara laughs, Karkat can’t help shuddering; his brain is buzzing in his skull.  He almost wants to cover his ears the way Gamzee did, but instead he clenches his fists by his thighs and bites his lip and wills Gamzee to do something,  _anything_ , to make the ghost go away so that he can beat the test.

 **Your** **_momma_ ** **never tried to take you back.  Your daddy was a good boy until he went travelin’ and ran off with that little Cajun whore.  She** **_used_ ** **him, that’s what they** **_do_ ** **, she never loved you, boy, she never cared for you the way—**

“No!”

**\--wanted nothing to do with what she birthed, ran off to swindle some other decent boy out of his money—**

“NO!” shouts Gamzee, and for a moment Karkat thinks he’s going to cry but then his face hardens into something altogether more terrifying.

**“No”?**

Every word seems to be an effort, but Gamzee’s standing straight now, breathing hard, staring straight at the ghost of his grandfather.  “No, you—you  _didn’t_ take care of me, an’—I still have her necklace she left with me—daddy told me—and--!”

 **Ungrateful little bastard, we gave you** **_everything_ ** **!**

“NO!  She didn’t wanna give me up and you didn’t wanna keep me and that’s why I wasn’t let downstairs when there was company and that’s why they sent me off to school, ‘cuz it was  _easy_ with their money and you--  You used some bad words on my  _friends_ and—my  _first_ mother _fucking_ friends, you called them—“

**Exactly what they are, should send ‘em all back where they—**

“Shut the fuck up, SHUT THE  _MOTHERFUCK_ UP, I finally got my MOTHERFUCKING understand on, who  _really_ takes care of me!  It’s my  _real_  family and it’s  _me_ and I DON’T OWE YOU SHIT!”

Grandpa Makara opens his mouth to say something else, fury building in every line of his body, but before he can speak Gamzee screams, wordless, a vast, cracked noise that fills the room.  And in the ringing silence that follows, Karkat sees the curly mark on Gamzee’s forearm shine bright purple and fade.  And then, silently, so does the ghost.

Karkat’s the first to move, edging forward towards Gamzee’s still, lanky figure, but before he can get too close the last wall crumbles.

Beyond it, there are chains.  Hanging rusted gold and tarnished purple links, a web of metal stretching into darkness.  The sourceless light from the testing room seems to be spreading tentatively through the door, as though it’s not sure it’s supposed to go in.  As Karkat follows it, the corner of a structure slides into visibility through the chains.

“This doesn’t make sense,” Kanaya whispers urgently, hurrying after him.  “It should be Aradia’s turn now.  Karkat.  Karkat, come back, it could be a trap!”

“I don’t think it is,” he says, “I think…I think we found them.”

On four stone pallets, suspended by the bi-colored chains, lie four people no older than the twelve slowly filtering into the room.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay, before I get the same "WHERE'S ARADIA" flak people have been giving PXS recently, a reassurance: that's coming up. Just not yet. Shenanigans have to happen first.


	5. Finals

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The twelve have done all they can, but fortunately the ones they came to rescue are ready to take it from here. Featuring The Actual Devil, mildly badass scenes of magical curbstomping, and the closing of a paradox. Life returns to almost normal except that everyone has more friends! But Karkat is still angry all the time.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Just want to thank everyone who reviewed and left kudos and reblogged the posts on Tumblr and EVERYTHING. I've had this in the works for a long time and for a while there it felt so stiff and complicated and poorly written that I wasn't sure it was worth finishing. You guys have absolutely proved me wrong! Thank you so much for reading!

“Well,” says Eridan a little unsteadily, “it could be weirder.  I thought they’d be mangled or, you know, transformed into stone or some shit.  Guess they’re just sleepin’?”

“How can you tell?” snaps Sollux, who hasn’t started panicking again yet but still looks distinctly wan and disgruntled.

“Because they’re wakin’ up,” Eridan replies, his eyes fixed on the four stirring bodies.

The first to sit up is a boy, angular and almost painfully white of skin and hair—like Karkat, but with a liberal sprinkling of golden freckles.  He’s wearing spiky black shades and an army jacket so liberally altered that it barely looks like one anymore—if he was actually in the army, he certainly isn’t anymore.  

Then another boy, as dark as Sollux, with a nose that might have been hooked once but is now crooked and snub.  There’s a green skull tattooed on one bare, scarred shoulder and when he grins at his assembled rescuers, Karkat catches sight of a gold tooth.  

Then a girl swings her legs over the side of her stone bed, white and round-faced with rosey cheeks and mussed black hair, dusting off a polka-dotted red skirt.  She looks nervous, and Karkat doesn’t really blame her—it can’t be easy to see what’s going on through the fog of dust on her glasses.  

Last is another girl, black and narrow-faced, her hair bleached and meticulously curled and dyed pink at the tips.  She’s dressed in jeans, a pink shirt, and a men’s leather jacket.  As she stretches, bracelets jingle around her wrists.

“We’ll only have a minute tops before he turns up,” says the white girl, glancing at the ceiling.  “He said he’d give us a chance to get out, not that he would let us go.”

“Like we were planning on leaving,” says the boy in the army jacket, snorting.  He glances at the twelve newcomers, and Karkat gets the distinct impression he’s being sized up.  “Thanks, kids.”

“ _Kids_ my ass!”  That’s Vriska, of course.  Her indignation is surprisingly grounding in this strange situation.  

Terezi actually laughs and says, “You know, I agree, a little less condescension would be appreciated.”

“Well I’m sure we’re all extremely grateful!” says the boy with the tattoo, and Karkat notices suddenly that he’s carrying a pair of pistols.  He’s struck suddenly by the thought that these four people came here with the sole intention of trapping and destroying...a  _devil_.  Maybe  _the_ Devil.  He wonders what kind of upbringing prepares you for that.

“We are!” says girl who spoke first.  She’s stubbornly trying to polish her glasses on her skirt.  “Very grateful indeed, but we have a previous engagement to take care of and—Roxy, what are you doing?”

“Freshening up,” says Roxy serenely, smacking her lips to spread a fresh coat of pink.  One hand is already slipping the chrome tube back into a pocket of the leather jacket.  “We didn’t age and neither did my lipstick!  Want my red, Jane?  You always looked a treat in red lipstick.”

“What about Vodka?” asks Jane, ignoring the offer of lipstick.

“Oh!”  Roxy turns around and gropes in the shadowy corners of her stone bed, eventually withdrawing a sawed-off shotgun from the darkness.  She gives it a cursory once-over and then beams at Jane.  “He’s fine, thanks for askin’!”

“Of course,” says Jane, smiling fondly at her.

“Okay,” says someone loudly—Eridan, as it turns out.  He looks tired and pissed as hell.  “We got this far, now will one a’ you please,  _please_ tell us what the hell is goin’ on here?  We did all kinds a’ shit to get here so I think you owe us an explanation before that Scratch bastard kills us all!”

There’s a general murmur of agreement from the rest of the crowd.  Even Tavros raises his voice enough for everyone to hear him say, “I had to break up with my girlfriend?  And also, Karkat almost died.”

“Hey, fuck you!” snaps Vriska.  “It wouldn’t have been so hard if you weren’t such a--”

“Oh, no, I don’t think, alright, that I’m going to let you make everything my fault any--”

“Later!” shouts Kanaya, effectively silencing the glaring ex-couple.  Every other raised voice subsides as well in the face of her sternness.  Satisfied, she turns back to the boy in the army jacket and says, “Can you please tell us your names and give us at least some  _semblance_ of an explanation?”

He stares at them for a moment, and then says, “Alright.  Alright, but I don’t think we have time for all of your names.  I’m Dirk Strider.  These are my friends, Roxy Lalonde--”

“Hello y’all!”

“--Jane Crocker--”

“Pleased to meet you!”

“--and Jake English.”

“Boy howdy,” breathes Jake, who doesn’t appear to be listening and has his shirt pulled up to reveal a broad, rounded stomach.  “He kept his word, look!  No more gaping hole in my belly!”

“Good,” says Dirk, “I’m really pleased to hear that.  Alright, valiant rescuers--how many of you are there?  God, there has to be a dozen at least.  Long story short, we made a deal with the devil.  We trapped him, he needs to eat our souls to get the power for breaking out of the trap, but he had to wait until today for astrological reasons or some shit like that.  The deal was that he’d give us a chance to escape between then and now.  We got a plan to pound Scratch, but we have to time it just right—“

“After being in stasis for years and years?” asks Kanaya.  She sounds skeptical and very, very worried.

Dirk pauses.  “…What year is it?”

“2015,” says the rescue group as a whole.  Embarrassed glances are shared, but the four kids by their stone beds don’t seem to notice.  Instead, they’re looking at each other in horrified shock.

“We’re, like,  _eighty_ now!” says Roxy.  “Damn.   _Damn_.  I couldn’t tell how much time was passing, I didn’t think he’d keep us that long!  I mean, I knew it was gonna be about fifty years, but talk about leaving it until the last second!”

Jake wags a finger at him.  “Technically we’re still twenty, Rox—”

“Can you please explain _further_?” growls a bass voice from the back of the crowd.  It’s Equius.  He has removed his glasses and is glowering at the recently-woken quartet with shadowed eyes.  “You seem to think there’s a limited amount of time and you still haven’t explained your plan  so I demand you tell us  _now_.”

“ _Demand_?” says Dirk, raising his eyebrows.  “You guys are the ones who interrupted me in the--”

Roxy waves a skinny, shushing finger at him and turns around, talking fast.  “Alright, so, we heard a while back that there was some possessed bastard on these premises, right?  So we came here on Halloween, made the mounds, which woulda taken a while without a little help from Jakey’s, uh, friends…”

“They weren’t too happy about that,” says Jake reflectively.

Jane, still looking uneasy, murmurs, “Get on with it, please.”

“Right!”  Roxy clears her throat.  “Anyway, the mounds sealed him in and they’re also part of my particular kind of magic— _which okay I’ll explain later stop glarin’ at me Janey._ Demons are like ghosts and they can’t move too fast on their own, they need to take over a human to really get around!  So they sleep inside the human’s brain and you can’t get to ‘em to kill ‘em.  But sometimes, if they have enough power, they wake up kinda…reuse the body of the human they’re sittin’ in to make their own body.  Like, they…re-shape it.  It’s gross.  What we wanted to do was wake up the demon to kill ‘im, but...we couldn’t even manage that, and...”

“And he was too strong for you,” Karkat guesses, accurately.  Roxy and Jane share a hard look.  Jake’s gaze drops to his feet.

“Time’s up,” says Dirk, who’s looking at the ceiling.  “…He’s coming.”

Karkat opens his mouth to ask how he can tell, and then the world turns into green light and the next moment they’re standing on green turf under a black, starless sky.  He topples over into wet grass as the surface beneath his feet changes at lightspeed from flat and level to a grassy incline.

Looking around as he stands up, Karkat realizes that the incline is actually one side of one of the mounds.  A decent sense of narrative tells him it’s probably the central one.  Scratch seems like the kind of…person…who would enjoy narrative.

And speak of the devil...

“So you freed them,” says Scratch, taking three measured steps towards the group.  “But too late.  This is the night when I am strongest, and here you are, without even a wake-up call from me!  This is really more than I could have hoped for.”

“I’ll bet it is,” says Dirk, narrowing his eyes.  “You’re not getting our fucking souls, Old Scratch.”

“Silly children,” says Scratch, coldly smug.  His eyes are like electric-green marbles in his white, skull-like face.  “As though you’ll have any choice in the matter once he has come.  He is practically already here!  My life is all that ties him to my body.  When that is gone, my flesh will become his flesh.  All I have to do…is die.”

When he raises the knife to his throat, he’s not smiling but the fervor in his eyes is so intense that he seems transported, almost ecstatic.

He makes the cut quickly, sweeping the knife across his jugular and away from his body in what seems to Karkat, through a haze of fatigue and apprehension, to be an overly-dramatic motion.  Even in the darkness, though, it’s obvious that something is wrong.  He isn’t bleeding, and his body is still perfectly upright.  And his skin is...rippling.

“It’s comin’,” says Roxy quietly.

“What is?” hisses Eridan from the back of the group.  “Hey, what’s—“

There are gasps and screams from all around as Scratch splits open.  Even Terezi sucks in a sharp breath, eyes half-focused but wide with alarm.  Only the four recently-freed prisoners are completely stoic.  Roxy murmurs, “The demon’s wakin’ up...”

Bloodlessly, Scratch’s body comes to pieces like porcelain and soft cloth, and the green, grotesquely muscled monster within swells from the impossibly small space, eyes spinning madly and flashing impossible colors.  He’s not fully formed, not yet, but it won’t be long.  

His voice isn’t like the apparition of Gamzee’s grandfather, which didn’t enter the head through the ears. It’s more than audible; it echoes in the bones, and the effect is like a strobing bassline turned up to eleven, pulsing unbearably in the skull.

**“HOW COULD YOU? HOPE TO HAVE A CHANCE?”**

Through the throbbing in his ears, Karkat hears someone throw up.  Looking around through watering eyes, he sees Feferi kneeling on the ground, wiping her mouth, Eridan, Sollux, and Kanaya dropping beside her in concern.  

**“YOU WERE TOO WEAK.  YEARS AGO.  AND YOU ARE STILL.  TOO.  WEAK.  I WILL EAT YOUR POWER.  AND BREAK YOUR STUPID SEAL.”**

The green monster pushes further, almost free of his container, and takes a single earth-shaking step forward.

“Jane,” says Roxy, into the thrumming quiet, “now.”

For a second, nothing happens.  Then there’s a sound like a finger on the edge of a wineglass and a cold wind gusts around Jane, making her starched skirts lift a little.  Ice-blue light seems to build up through her body, starting with her feet and quickly filling her.  In the cool pulses under her skin, the shadows of bones are visible.  A network of veins luminesces and then fades just as quickly.

The Devil seems almost taken aback for a second, and then, with a sound like tons of metal being dragged over concrete, he laughs.  Even the four hunters facing him flinch at the sound, Jane’s power flickering slightly even as she stands firm in the face of his approach.

**“YOU DID NOT HAVE ENOUGH LIFE THAT YOU COULD SAVE YOUR FRIEND.  LAST TIME! YOU CANNOT SAVE THEM ALL!**

“That was before!” says Jane through gritted teeth, and extends a hand not towards any of her friends, but towards Scratch’s body.  A bolt of blue crosses the space between her and it, and in the next moment his figure has been jolted into the air, rewoven by the power crackling around it.   Only a second later, he drops to the ground again and Karkat can see his thin chest rising and falling, his white face whole once more but still contorted with otherworldly fury.

“Jake!” yells Roxy.  “Now Scratch’s all healed up, the demon ain’t got his own body anymore!  You’re up!”

“It would be my genuine pleasure,” says Jake, and then his grin drops a little.  “Er—Roxy—how do I know which angel to use?”

“I don’t think it fucking matters at this point, Jakey, just do it before he can die again!” Roxy shouts, and whips up her shotgun to fire a cursory shell at Scratch’s hand as he reaches for the knife.  “Oh no you don’t, son!”

“If you say so,” says Jake, and spreads his arms wide.  The group of twelve takes a collective step backwards as a ball of light explodes from his chest, lifting him at least ten feet in the air.  Where Jane’s life-restoring spell was cold, Jake’s magic is like a hundred summer days all balled into pure white warmth.  He shouts a name—an incomprehensible name like a roll of thunder, but a  _name_ nonetheless—and a many-winged figure trailing smokey white light bursts from the nimbus around him.

In a moment, the demon is wrapped in wings and ghostly tail.  It screams at the contact, its many-colored eyes burning in Scratch’s sockets, glaring hatred and accusation at Jake.

**“YOU!  WERE NOT SO POWERFUL!  BEFORE!”**

“Then you shouldn’ta given us fifty years to cook this stuff up!” says Roxy, spinning her gun, a fierce grin on her face.  “We didn’t just  _sleep_ , ya bastard, we’ve been making plans and building magic this whole time!  Dirk, pull that sucker outta there!”

“With pleasure,” growls Dirk, and extends both hands with the fingers crooked like claws.  A filament of pink energy grows steadily between him and the bound Scratch-demon, like the energy in a plasma globe reaching from the inner sphere to fingertips on the glass.  Scratch’s head snaps back, his mouth wide open and screaming, and a phantom of green and flickering, impossible colors begins to arch away from his body.

Dirk’s teeth are bared to the gums, his muscles straining with effort from the spiritual tug-of-war.   _“Can’t…fight it…forever!”_ he grinds out, and although there’s no physical action, Karkat can  _feel_ the wrench, a great shift of the air.  A moment later, the shade of the demon hangs in the air away from his human vessel, twisting and writhing.  The winged light-being, which is probably actually an angel, vanishes but the devil…whatever it is…seems unable to move too quickly.  As it crawls forward, glaring malevolently at the group, Jake and Dirk both drop to the ground, looking pale and drained.

“ _Rox…”_ Dirk pants.   _“Sorry…for messing up…finish ‘im?”_

“’Course,” says Roxy, and for just a moment her voice is all warmth and forgiveness before it turns back to steel.  “You’re goin’  _all_ the way down, bud.”

And then she drops to the ground and presses her hands into the turf and all around them total silence falls.  Karkat finds his eyes drawn to the distant mounds, arrayed in their broad rectangle, where dark lines are seeping through the grass to connect each point.  In a moment, the shape becomes clear: a rectangle with a cross cutting it into quarters.

_A window._

As the grass melts away into dark smoothness, the feeling of looking through glass into some infinite depth grows stronger.  Standing on one of the panes is immensely disturbing, but there isn’t room for everyone to stand on the crux of the cross, where Roxy is rummaging in the large bag over her shoulder.

“Never travel without one, come  _on_ ,” she mutters.   

On the window pane to her left, the ousted shade drags itself even closer, feet from her.  One clawed, semi-solid hand stretches out towards Roxy’s ankle.  “ _Um_ ,” says Karkat, his voice cracking.

“Got it!”  Triumphantly, she hauls a large, half-full wine bottle from her bag, kisses it once, kicks away the questing green claws with all the contempt of a queen, and pulls back one arm.  It comes down in a blur, the bottle spinning from her fingertips and crashing into the window pane.

The eyes of all sixteen kids follow the cracks as they spread away from the point of impact, making bright little chiming noises with every new break.  Then, all at once, the pane falls away, shards sinking with the green wraith into infinite darkness.  Karkat feels like the sight of it is eating at his eyeballs; any hole that goes deep enough looks bottomless, but this one gives the impression of truly going on forever.  Behind him, someone whimpers.  He thinks maybe it’s Gamzee.

And then the window sinks back into the grass and the void melts away somehow and they’re all just standing on a golf course at night, the cool wind ruffling their hair.

Except it isn’t night anymore, not really.  The sun isn’t up but the gray light of pre-dawn is seeping over the horizon.   _It’s finally tomorrow_ , Karkat thinks through a dizzy haze of elation and anemia.   _Oh my god, we survived_.

Jake is the first to break the silence.  His enthusiastic whoop cracks near the beginning and turns into something more like a crying kitten but it starts an inexorable chain reaction of celebration.  Eridan pulls Sollux and Feferi both into a bone-cracking hug, his jaw jammed awkwardly between their shoulders, his face wet.  

Nepeta actually manages to engage Equius in celebratory play-wrestling, throwing her shoulder into his waist and wrapping both arms around his thighs so that he loses his balance and falls to the ground, yelling in protest.  While the rugby players are scuffling and shouting, Karkat stretches up to put a hand on Gamzee’s shoulder and shouts, “We did it!”

“I--yeah,” says Gamzee, and then, a wide, sharp grin spreading across his face, “told that motherfucker what’s what, huh?  Felt all fuckin’  _hellsa_ good.”

“You,” says Karkat, “need therapy.  If your parents--your family, I mean--are paying for the full package here, I’ll bet you’re also covered when it comes to the Health and Wellness Center.”

“The what?” Gamzee yells, leaning over so that his head is bumping Karkat’s.  Karkat immediately jerks to push him away, and then--what the hell--puts his hands on either side of the guy’s head and bumps their foreheads together.

“We’ll figure it out later, you huge wreck!”

“Okay!” says Gamzee, and as he pulls away he looks more genuinely happy that Karkat thinks he’s ever seen him.

To their left, Vriska is yelling  _“Fuck yeah!  Take_ that _!”_ at the sky.  Kanaya is crying.  Aradia and Tavros are hugging tightly, laughing shakily into each other’s shoulders.  Terezi, standing somewhat awkwardly to one side, isn’t entirely surprised to see Sollux’s skinny form approaching.

“AA?”

Aradia only pulls away from Tavros after a moment, making sure he still has his cane’s support before she lets go.

“Hey,” says Sollux.

“Hey,” says Aradia.  Tavros looks from one to the other and then, as inconspicuously as possible, limps over to stand by Terezi.

“So, uh,” he begins, and Terezi holds up one finger.

“Ssshhh...I’m listening.”

Tavros straightens, apparently affronted.  “Isn’t that, kind of rude, maybe?”

“Maybe,” Terezi murmurs, closing her eyes, “but I’m far too curious to stop myself.  Perhaps you should go find out whether Vriska’s prepared to be decent to you now.”

After a moment his presence next to her vanishes and Terezi diverts all of her attention to the conversation happening behind her.

“...to say I’m sorry.”

“For the little stunt you pulled when you were bleeding from the face?”

“No, no, I mean, well, for that too, but...for high school.  I just felt like you’d betrayed me, you know?”

“I understand, Sollux.  We had a deal and I broke it.”

“Yeah, but that was no reason for me to just ignore you for two fucking years.  Well, okay, after the first year I mostly just kept going because I didn’t know how to stop, but…”

“Do you remember why that deal was so important to us in the first place?”

“I...yeah.  Because if either of us actually went through with it, then the other one would be alone.  We were ‘the only reasons either of us were sticking around’, right?”

“Right,” sighs Aradia.  There’s a moment of relative silence, during which Roxy fires off a quick series of shotgun blasts into the sky and everyone else shouts in surprise.  

Then the laughing and cheering return and Sollux says, a little more loudly, “We should’ve gotten help.”

“We did!  At least, I did, and Feferi told me you’ve visited a couple different therapists with Double-Dad...”

“I mean, in high school.  Back when it was really bad.”

“Well, that’s high school for you,” says Aradia gently.  “You already hate yourself for enough things.  Let it go.”

“...It’s never really going to be gone, is it?” asks Sollux.  “It just goes in waves.”

“Yeah,” says Aradia, “but that’s okay.  I’m okay with that now.”

Terezi, starting to feel more and more like her time is up, edges back towards the main group, looking for the pale blur of Karkat’s face.  She hasn’t gone more than a couple steps before she trips over something warm and falls face-first onto the grass.

“Of all the times not to use that cane of yours, this may have been the most unwise,” says Equius’s voice from somewhere to her left.

Terezi, who’s lying across three pairs of legs, grunts, “You sound-- _oof_ \--almost  _good-humored_ , Mister Zahhak!  Truth be told, I hadn’t expected any serious obstacles before reaching the crowd itself, let alone a series of prone bodies!”  One of the legs, she observes, is more plasticky than fleshy.  “...Tavros, is that you?”

“Um.  Yes.”

“How did you get down here?”

“I tackled him,” says Nepeta.

“And she’s very sorry,” Equius adds.

“I really am!  I totally forgot about Tavros’s leg!”

“It’s fine…”

Trying not to injure anyone, Terezi picks herself up and sits down to one side of the resting bodies.  When she looks up at the sky, the moon is still visible as a blurry, ice-gray circle.  If the stars are still out, she can’t tell, but over the trees to the east pale greenish light preempts the arrival of the sun.

Terezi allows herself a moment’s sentimentality.  She’s going to miss colors.

“Bejabbers!” says Jake breathlessly as the cheers start dying away.  “Uh, I think they’re going to start knocking in a bit here…”

“Who?” asks Karkat sharply, suddenly tense and nervous again.  

Jake waves a placating hand at him.  “Nothing dangerous, it’s just…well, when you call up one of those angelic fellows, the rest of them start wanting to come through so they start trying to make me say one of their names!”

“ _More_ angels?” asks Eridan, sounding somewhat faint.

Jake’s eyes have started glowing white, but he says quite conversationally, “Don’t worry, I’ve figured out a way to—“

And then he cries aloud in that great voice like a choir of thunderbolts, the words:  ** _“CHRIST ON A BIKE!!!!!”_**

There’s a ringing, stunned silence.  As the chiming echoes begin to die down, Equius sits slowly up and says, “…Explain.”

“Well, they can make me say  _something_ but I figured out a while ago that if I just don’t use the words they’re looking for, they don’t turn up!  So I just say something else.”

“We call it the god-voice,” says Roxy.  “Sometimes for a quarter we can make him say some really dumb stuff!”

“Because ‘christ on a bike’ isn’t dumb enough,” says Karkat.  “Got it.”

“Why, do people not say that anymore?” asks Jake, innocently curious.

Roxy sighs.  “Jakey, they hardly said that even back when we were...I mean, even back then.  Damn, it’s gonna be so weird tryin’ to get used to life in  _the future_ …”

“Tell me about it,” says Dirk with a half-smile.  

Jane, who’s still having little relief-induced gigglefits, subsides enough to sigh and say, wistfully, “I do wish that weren’t a complication...it would have been nice to at least wake up, well, a little earlier than this.”

In the melancholy pause that follows, someone clears their throat.  All eyes turn to Aradia, who smiles brightly and says, “In case you’d all forgotten, I never completed my task!  Time, remember?  I think Scratch thought it would be fun to give you four a chance to return to your own time, especially since he never really expected anyone to beat his tests.  I have the feeling I can still send you back, but…it’s fading.  So we’d better hurry!”

“Time travel?” says Dirk, frowning.  “What kind of time travel?  The predestined kind or the ‘you went back and now things are different’ kind?”

“I don’t know,” says Aradia serenely, “but you had better decide whether you want to gamble on one or the other, because as I said, ironically, time is running out.”

The group of four shares glances, the kind that friends of many years can use instead of having a conversation.  Eventually, Jane steps forward and says, “Alright, might as well give it a shot!  It can hardly be any stranger than waking up after fifty years asleep,  _hoo hoo_!”

Jake comes forward to stand next to her, putting one hand on her shoulder.  “I wholeheartedly agree!  Go ahead, miss!”

“Wait,  _I_ should go fi--” Dirk starts, but before he can finish the sentence Aradia has already extended her hands and, with a look of faraway concentration, murmured,  _“Go back.”_

There’s a tiny flicker of red light, the feeling that something has been switched with something else, and then nothing.  Where Jane and Jake were standing, the velvet-smooth green of the golf course has been replaced with two neat circles of wildly overgrown lawn.

“Holy fuck,” says Dirk, and then, sharply, “did it work?  Do you  _know_ it worked?  Are they safe?”

“Quite possibly,” says Aradia, raising her eyebrows at the series of aggressive questions.  “But if you two are going to follow them you had better let me know soon--I’m not sure how far back I can send you.”

“I don’t--” Dirk starts.

“We’ll do it!” says Roxy, taking his hand in hers.  They share a hard look for a moment, and then Dirk sighs and nods ever so slightly.

“Bye, kids,” says Roxy as Aradia raises her hands again.  “Thanks for ev--”

And then they’re gone.

“ _‘Kids’_ ,” snorts Eridan, but his voice is still thick and weak from crying, and in the still aftermath of everything, even he doesn’t have the energy to be properly offended.

They make their way towards the lodge and the front gate, mostly in stunned silence.  Somewhere out there, on the college campuses and in the surrounding streets, there are surely all-night partiers also heading home, lamenting their smeared facepaint and their aching stomachs, with no knowledge of all the crazy shit that happened here.

Remarkably, Terezi is the first to point through the mists around the gate and say, “Is there someone over there?”

There is.  There are four people standing on the road outside the gate, watching them.  The group of twelve staggers to a halt, staring warily at the strangers.  Then one of the dark figures nudges another and says something indistinct.  There’s a muffled argument of the sort that happens when one friend is trying to convince another to do something inherently embarrassing.  Eventually, the one who was nudged in the first place throws up their hands and takes a few tentative steps forward.

It’s a girl.  She’s short and wide-hipped, with bobbed blonde hair.  She is the second person Karkat has ever seen who can make black lipstick look good.  And, coincidentally, she seems to have eyes only for…

“Kanaya?” she says.

Everyone looks at Kanaya, on whose face a slow realization is dawning.  “…Yes?” she says carefully, taking a few steps forward herself.

“My name is Rose Lalonde,” says the girl.  “We’ve…we’ve been pen pals of a sort for quite a while now.  I’m sorry I couldn’t tell you more!  I knew you had to succeed because, well, paradoxes are helpful that way, but I admit I was still worried.”  Her voice, initially hesitant, picks up speed and emotion the longer she talks, while her eyes are fixed, as though hypnotized, on Kanaya’s face.  Both girls keep taking steady steps towards each other.

“Oh my god,” whispers Karkat, “they’re going to kiss.”

He’s not entirely right, but the tender hug and touching foreheads are indication enough of their feelings for each other.  Nepeta squeals quietly.  Vriska is staring at the couple in utter bewilderment.

This moment seems likely to continue indefinitely, as completely focused on each other as the two girls are, but then one of the other newcomers--a broad boy with black hair and square, thick-rimmed glasses--steps forward and says, “Wow, so you’re the zodiac people!   _Cool_!”

“ _Not_ cool,” snaps Karkat, although without his usual vitriol.  “Are you telling me you four were behind this the whole time?  Talk about a fucking let-down!”

“You gotta be the Cancer guy,” says the other boy--shorter, with blond hair and a pair of Aviators perched on his snub nose.  “What was Cancer’s in the one about the personalities?  _You’re too loud…?”_

“ _You talk too much, too loudly,_ ”says the last person--a tall girl with long black hair and a bright smile that reminds Karkat of Feferi.  Or it would if he weren’t too busy being tired and pissed off that four kids, most of whom look about his age--if not younger--were in charge of orchestrating a potentially lethal mission for him and his friends.

But before he can voice any of this, Kanaya says, somewhat breathlessly, “So!  Why, um...why are you here?”

“We thought you might need a ride back,” says Rose, who can’t seem to stop smiling.  “We’ve got...let me see...five cars.  One belonging to each of our guardians, and of course John’s VW Beetle, which ought to accommodate anyone who would otherwise be crammed into a back seat with two other people.”

“She’s called Casey,” says the black-haired boy proudly, jingling a key ring between thumb and forefinger.  “Who has dibs?!”

No one answers, poleaxed as they are by the sudden change of pace, but John seems utterly unperturbed by this.  As they approach the line of cars outside the gate, the front windows of the closest one (a neon pink convertible) roll down.

“Hey, kids,” says the lady in the driver’s seat.  “Haven’t seen y’all in a  _while_!”

It is, unmistakably, Roxy.  Her hair’s a little shorter now, her face longer and more lined, but it’s the same one they saw not fifteen minutes ago.  She might even be wearing the same shade of lipstick.

And in the gleaming orange vintage car behind it…

“All aboard,” deadpans Dirk, giving them a level amber stare over the top of his spiky glasses.

“So it worked!” Aradia leans forward curiously, looking him up and down as though expecting to find some kind of time travel-induced deformity.

“Yeah, kind of.”  Dirk’s voice is much deeper now, not as sharp and quick as when he was a teen.  “Jane and Jake went back further than us, so they thought at first we hadn’t made it.  We could be their kids now, how fuckin’ weird is that?”

“Oh, I’m sorry,” says Aradia, apparently genuinely concerned.

Roxy shrugs.  “We’ve had like twenty years to get used to it, hon, we’re fine!  Now y’all better get in, you look dead on your feet.”

Karkat ends up in the back of John’s Beetle, mainly because he has every intent of bawling the twerp out, but Vriska’s already occupying shotgun by the time he gets there.  He could probably still have harangued their driver from the back seat, but he finds that for once his voice seems spent...and anyway, Gamzee’s sitting next to him and Gamzee needs taken care of.

And there should be questions to ask--no, there  _are_ \--but even Vriska hardly tries to cut in around John Egbert’s cheerful babble.  He seems to be trying to explain the whole situation, but he seems to skip randomly from thought to thought, taking tangents and doubling back with a logic only he understands.  But from the pieces that seem to connect, Karkat gathers a very basic understanding of events from John’s point of view.

It goes something like this: Jane, Jake, Dirk, and Roxy went back in time and, somehow (Karkat isn’t clear on the details of either family tree, or even whether there is anything that could be called a tree) produced John, Jade, Dave, and Rose.  For a wide variety of reasons, which John fails to list all together, neither the former prisoners nor their descendants could visit the golf course and play Scratch’s games when the time came.  But if someone were to influence the situation in some way, it was better that the younger generation take charge.

Which is how Rose--who apparently has magical powers, not unlike every other fucking person they’ve met tonight--came to scry out the best possible initial contact among the destined group of twelve and contact Kanaya Maryam.

Through the pink clouds filling his brain, Karkat still recognizes the sense of empty resentment stirring in his chest.  It felt so real--it  _was_ real.  They risked their lives, plus an asston of other things, when they could have just refused to take part.  Everyone was almost ludicrously brave, not that he’d ever say it aloud.  

And now it turns out they were just fulfilling some pre-destined loop.  Well, that’s...just…

Karkat opens his eyes and the car is parked outside his dorm.

“Brother,” Gamzee’s saying.  “Brother c’mon, we’re all stayin’ here.  Done talked it out and ain’t no one wants to be alone right now, y’dig?”

“I, yeah,” Karkat mumbles.  “But--I wanna know--ask ‘em some more stuff…”

“We got their numbers, best friend, now you come along…”

Karkat shouts when Gamzee hoists him up into strong, skinny arms, but only a little.  The group of twelve say their farewells to the orchestrators of the night’s adventure, then troop in relative silence through the doors of the dorm.  Beds are shared where comfort allows.  Extra blankets and pillows are produced.

They settle down on the floor, some in Karkat and Gamzee’s room, some in Sollux’s.  At first there seems to be a kind of uneasy energy in the air, as though for all their weariness none of them will be able to sleep.  But eventually, as their breathing slows and its quiet rhythm fills the room, all twelve of them drop off to sleep.

The next morning starts slow, with soft whispers in the bright gap between dawn and noon.  The hallway outside is quiet--unsurprising, given the weekend sleeping habits of most college students--but inside there’s the intimate rustle of “let’s-not-wake-anyone-up” voices.

_“So...did that really happen?”_

_“Of course it did!  Let’s not question our experiences.  I am positive that we are not the victims of some kind of mass hallucination.”_

_“Yeah, but…magic, and, well,_ everything...”

_“But we already knew magic existed.  Or at least...I did.”_

_“Kanaya!  I didn’t know you were awake!”_

_“Uh, Nepeta, people are still sleeping...”_

“Not anymore,” groans Karkat, rolling over in bed.  “Does anyone know if they’re awake across the hall?”

“I can all and take a look,” says Gamzee, sitting up in bed and stretching laboriously.  Karkat notices that his face, the way he looks at things, still has that strange new...sharp quality.  It’s both disconcerting and, somehow, a relief.  Before now, Gamzee always seemed to be looking at things through a fog.

As Gamzee ambles towards the door, Tavros props himself up on his elbows and says quietly, “...Damn, I slept in my leg.”

“Are you not supposed to do that?” asks Nepeta, watching curiously as he pulls his blankets to one side to examine his prosthetic.

Tavros sighs, glancing at Karkat.  “Uh, no.  Is it okay if I, just for today, use your bathroom?”

“Knock yourself out,” Karkat mutters, and then, on a whim, “Are you ever gonna tell us how you lost that thing?”

Tavros pauses in heaving himself to his feet to give Karkat an unusually hard look.  “Maybe not, since it...might not be your business,” he says, and limps in the direction of the bathroom.

Karkat raises his eyebrows at Nepeta in a  _did that really just happen_ kind of way.  She grins.  To his right, Kanaya is quietly lamenting the fact that she slept in her clothes.

It’s at this point that a muffled explosion of sound diverts all attention to the room across the hall.  To be exact, the words  _“GOOD MOTHERFUCKIN’ MORNIN’!”_ , roared in a thick Southern accent.  A moment later, Gamzee returns to the room, managing to slouch hurriedly and grinning his sharp new grin.

“They’re all up now,” he says.

“I believe it,” says Kanaya weakly.  Across the hall, a chorus of complaining voices is growing louder.  Within seconds, Eridan staggers in wearing striped boxers and a violet tanktop and glaring bloody murder at Gamzee.

The ensuing SNAFU resolves itself somehow into the unanimous decision that breakfast is in order.  They wait with varying degrees of patience for Tavros to finish letting his leg dry, and then, still wearing the same sweaty, scuffed clothes they had on last night, troupe down to the local dining hall.

Thinking about it, Karkat is still pretty pissed at John and his friends.  He’s even pissed at their guardians, to some extent.  It would be one thing if they were kept in the dark because there were questions even Rose couldn’t answer, but the idea that their ignorance was somehow  _necessary_  because of  _destiny_ leaves a bad taste in his mouth.

But…

He’s sitting at one of the long tables in the dining hall with twelve other people, and as much as he dislikes some of them--as much as some of them dislike each other--he belongs with them.  There’s no question of whether any of them should be sitting here.  Even though Tavros and Vriska’s brief conversations are as stiff and awkward as possible, even though Equius still seems to have trouble meeting the eyes of anyone but Nepeta, even though Aradia seems more tired than anyone and only picks at her food…  Well, at least no one’s gotten up and left.  That’s something.

And at least Sollux and Eridan’s arguments seem more like comedy staged for Feferi’s benefit than actual fights.  At least Feferi is laughing instead of crying.  At least Aradia manages a small, genuine smile for Sollux and Tavros.  At least Equius sometimes joins in Nepeta’s conversations with other people.  And the needling comments Terezi directs at Vriska seem tailored to distract her from her post-breakup brooding.  And Kanaya, fixing her hair in a little handheld mirror, seems to have no inclination to mediate between any of the arguing parties.  And Gamzee may be different since last night, but at least he’s got people on his side now.  One thing at a time.

It’s better than crying alone in a bathroom, anyway, thinks Karkat.  If the hall around them weren’t already so loud, he’d make a speech.

****

**Epilogue**

It’s Karkat’s day to feed Eunice.

Normally he’d put this chore off as long as possible--at least until after breakfast, since the goat gets enough food in the way of scraps at every meal.  But today there won’t be time after breakfast, he stumbles downstairs in the gray morning light and out the back door into the tiny back yard of the little house where Eunice spends his nights.

The goat is settled down in his chickenwire pen on clean hay, but with his usual slightly creepy promptness he pops up and bleats self-importantly as Karkat approaches with a bag of alfalfa pellets.

“You’re just lucky we could find a place that allowed pets,” he grumbles, dipping the goat’s feeding bowl into the bag.  “And you’re not coming in until we get back.  They don’t allow pets on the bus.”

Sollux is sitting at the dining room table when Karkat walks back in, morosely pouring Half & Half into his coffee.

“Nice kilt,” says Karkat, nodding.

“Skirt,” says Sollux, and blows on his coffee.  Karkat shrugs, opening the door of the mini-fridge to pull out the orange juice.

“Right, whatever the fuck.  I thought Kanaya told you you should wear leggings with that look or some shit.”

“KK, look, I realize your fashion sense is about on a level with  _Eunice_ , but you can’t just treat KN’s advice like word of fucking god.  I can’t pull off leggings.”

“Yeah, but Feferi might,” says Karkat, wiggling his eyebrows.

When Tavros arrives in the kitchen, Karkat is swearing violently and pointing at the great orange stain on his shirt while Sollux cackles and points.

“What...are you guys  _doing_?”

“KK--oh  _god,_ you massive douche--KK made a  _way_ too personal comment, so I--”

For a moment, Karkat mouths silently at him in incoherent rage, and then he manages,  “” _Way too personal_ ’? How is it any less personal than the dumb sexual insults we hit each other with literally every day?!”

“Because it was about me and FF,” Sollux snaps.  “And you get just as pissed when people talk that shit about you and Gamzee too, which is unbelievably hypocritical, which is why I--”

“Splashed orange juice on him?” asks Tavros weakly, sitting down at the table.

“Just hit the bottle so it would slosh a little,” says Sollux dismissively.  “He’s the one who jumped back and got it all over himself.”

“Lies and fucking slander!  Also, Gamzee and I don’t  _do_ that stuff and you know it!”

“Like you know what me and FF get up to, you pretentious prick!”

“Fuck you!”

“Fuck you too!  Oh, hey, no cane today?”

Tavros grins a little uncertainly, glancing at the still-fuming Karkat.  “Uh...yeah.  The re-fitted socket is working, much better than the last one.  But I think I might still bring the cane when we leave, just in case.”

“Good plan,” says Karkat, sounding merely disgruntled now.  “Where are Eridan and Gamzee?”

“Eridan’s showering and...I think Gamzee’s still in bed?” says Tavros. “Karkat, I think that, he might have scraped off the bandages on his hands during the night, um…”

“ _Fuck_ ,” says Karkat with feeling.  “He’d better believe I’m re-doing them when he gets down here, where’s my First-Aid kit?”

“In your backpack in the bedroom, tool,” says Sollux, rolling his eyes.  “TV, does EQ run on Saturdays?  Is that a thing?”

“His bed’s empty so he better be running, otherwise we’re gonna have to put out a Missing Persons alert,” Karkat grumbles, pulling off his shirt as he stands up.  “And he better get back in time, too.  Just as well my stuff’s in the bedroom, huh?  Since that’s where all my  _shirts_ are.”

“Have a safe trip,” says Sollux, and downs the last of his coffee.  He and Tavros watch Karkat climb the stairs, and then, when he’s gone, Sollux turns to Tavros and says, conversationally, “I guess he forgot all his clothes went into the washer last night.”

\--

Terezi wakes up to the sound of her phone saying,  _“Eight o’clock.  Eight o’clock.”_ and opens her eyes.

She’s used to the opening not making a difference by now, but it’s something of a habit.  She was accustomed to getting by mainly by touch as well, even before her range of vision decreased to zero degrees, but there’s no doubt that losing even what was left of her sight has necessitated certain lifestyle changes.

She was never one for color coordination in the first place, but finds she somehow cares more about it now that she can’t see them--perhaps because the first thought of any casual passerby would be  _“oh, she doesn’t know what she’s wearing”_ rather than  _“oh, her dress sense is terrible”_.  More than anything, she dislikes looking helpless.

The textures of her shirts shift slowly under her fingers--rough, soft, threadbare, silky--ah, that’s her white button-up.  And there, the two vests with their slightly hairy fabric.  A quick examination with her fingers tells her which one is the red one, and she pulls it into her arms along with the button-up.

Now...pants.

She comes downstairs ten minutes later, one hand on the rail, the other on her cane.  The tapping sound must have echoed into the kitchen below, because Feferi greets her from one room over without seeing her.

“Good morning, Terezi!”

“Good morning, Princess,” says Terezi as she enters the kitchen, using the nickname that the girls’ house has universally accepted as appropriate for Feferi.  “What are you writing?”

“Just finalizing my schedule,” Feferi chirps.

“Excellent!  I think I will have an apple for breakfast...no need to eat too much now when so much more food will be available later!”

“Aradia and Vriska are already waiting out on the porch,” says Feferi as Terezi slides one hand over the counter towards the fruit basket.  “You might go outside and distract Vriska, she wanted to leave half an hour ago!  And I’m not sure Aradia’s doing much to keep her occupied...”

“I think I will,” says Terezi absently, rolling over an orange and feeling underneath it.  “Ah!  Feferi, is this red or green?”

“Green.”

“Again, excellent.  Tell Kanaya when she comes down that we don’t mind waiting on her.”

“Will do!”

And then Terezi’s gone with a swing of the creaky screen door.  In the silence of the empty kitchen, Feferi finishes typing the last words of an email to her guidance counselor, then hits Send and sits back in the satisfied bliss of someone who’s finally decided to drop a class they hate.  

In fact it’s only another five minutes before Kanaya comes quietly down the stairs.  She clears her throat gently as she enters the room, adjusting the green V-neck she’s been waiting to wear for several months now, and says, “Well...how is it?”

Feferi glances up, then does a double take, gasping and beaming.  “You look beautiful!  I’m sooo proud of you!”

Kanaya flushes happily, then looks around.  “...Where’s everyone else?  Surely they didn’t leave without us.”

“They’re just out on the porch,” says Feferi, standing up.  “Except for Nepeta, but I’m sure she’ll be back from her run soon!  Anyway, it’s even nicer out than we could’ve hoped, and the buses come every twenty minutes, so they  _can’t_ be mad.”

Vriska, of course, can be mad about anything, but these days it’s only a kind of mild automatic reaction.  She complains when Kanaya and Feferi come out, then again when Nepeta dashes past them into the house shouting something about how she only needs five minutes to shower and change.

They meet the boys at the bus stop where the streets of their rental houses cross, and immediately the groups mingle and loud chattering fills the cool morning air.  Karkat finishes putting butterfly bandages on Gamzee’s freshly-torn knuckles before letting him walk over to Tavros, who’s been teaching him how to rap.  Sollux and Feferi share a quick kiss and settle into the comfortable stance of long-term couples, their arms hanging around each other’s waists.  Equius, who seems to be as fresh out of the shower as Nepeta, is still toweling off his neck as he asks Aradia how her new classes are going.  Eridan joins them, digging a history book out of his bag and opening it to a particularly gruesome woodcut ( _“thought you’d like that!”_ ).  Vriska and Terezi are still talking D&D, but they stop long enough for Vriska to offer what might be a sincere compliment to Kanaya, who gives her a small smile before moving on to talk to Karkat.

When they board the bus, occupying almost all the seats near the back, they end up shuffled around again and new conversations (or arguments) begin.  it’s one of those unfortunate situations where everyone keeps talking louder and louder so that they can be heard over the sound of everyone else increasing their volume.  By the time they exit the bus en masse, the bus driver seems more than glad to see them go.

The walk is different this time, loaded down with baskets and bags of blankets.  When they reach the gap in the wall where the gate used to stand, the sun has reduced the early morning mist to shreds and Kanaya has already handed out all her water bottles.    There are three cars parked on the empty path.

“Looks like they’re already here,” Eridan observes, just a little sourly.  “Still don’t see why we couldn’t’ve asked them for a ride.”

“Oh, hush, you!” says Feferi, elbowing him in the ribs.  “At least we got some good exercise, right?”

“Sure,” Eridan grunts, rubbing the spot where her elbow connected with his side.  “--Fef, I think you broke a rib.  You got to stop injuring people that way, it’s a crime.”

“It’s not a crime if it’s hilarious,” says Sollux, hefting the cooler he’s been carrying a little higher in his arms.  “Now can we get going?  I’ve got a headache.”

“ _Everything_  gives you a headache,” says Aradia, and Karkat laughs loudly.

“Now brother,” says Gamzee as they set off down the path, Karkat and Sollux still glaring at each other, “y’know that’s not as you should be doing.  Ain’t good for you.”

Karkat’s eyes widen in indignation.  “Says the guy who punched someone in the face for no good reason!  Like  _five fucking times_ , I might add!  _And_ you hurt yourself, goddammit!”

Gamzee shrugs idly.  “Well, he’d all and said somethin’ shitty about you, bro.”

“About  _us_.  And I had it completely under control!”

“Well, whatever’s the deal, won’t do no good for you to be all fired up either, so be good, yeah?”

“I hate you.”

“Mm-hm.”

“You two are cute,” says Nepeta slyly, making Karkat’s cheeks burn.  His immediate instinct is to snap something about the crush she used to have--and may still have--on him, but even he’s not that much of an asshole.  She’s dealt with it way better than Eridan did with Sollux and Feferi at first, anyway.

“Shut up,” he grumbles, and she grins and turns to Terezi, whose hand has been on her shoulder since they got off the bus.

“How’re you doing?”

“Displeased with the terrain, but otherwise fine,” says Terezi brightly.  “I keep hitting Tavros’s ankles, though, so you might inquire after his health instead!”

“I, uh, didn’t feel it,” says Tavros.  “But, look, Nepeta, are you going to be playing with us this year?  It’s going to be a lot easier now that we’re living in houses near each other, but I don’t know when you, and Equius I guess, have rugby practice?”

“I can’t play on Friday,” says Nepeta, “but Saturday would be fine!  Can you change?”

Terezi snorts.  “Oh, I’m sure there will be an argument over it.  But long story short, once Vriska’s done with her inevitable cantankerousness, I’m sure Saturday will be fine.”

“Oh.  Good!  Then yes, I’m definitely going to play!”

“Great!” says Tavros.  “Hey, Aradia, Nepeta says she can play with us!”

“Excellent,” says Aradia, smiling at both of them.  “Nepeta, do you think we could introduce Equius to the magic of D&D?  Perhaps you could convince him!”

“Roleplaying is a foolish activity,” says Equius flatly.  “Unless it involves some serious intellectual effort, I see no reason to spend my time on it.”

Nepeta rolls her eyes.  “Aw, Equius, you have to do things just for fun sometimes!”

“I do things for fun,” says Equius, looking affronted.  “Math.  Robotics.  Rugby...I suppose.”

“Okay, I know you like doing those things, but there are other things you might like if you tried them!”

“Also,” Aradia adds before Equius can interject, “I think the beauty of D&D is that it can accommodate a wide range of different playing styles...so long as everyone respects the way everyone else chooses to do it!”

“Hm,” says Equius.  If his arms weren’t currently full of cases of lawn chairs, he would probably have folded them stubbornly over his chest.  But when Aradia shoots him a brief smile he seems to relax slightly, his face coloring.

“Yeah, Zahhak,” calls Vriska from the rear,  “ _some_ of us do take it seriously!  Just don’t make fun of us for it and we won’t make fun of you for being a total noob!”

Equius gives her a calculating stare.  “That is practically a gilded invitation from you.”

“Bull _shit_!”

“I may join you,” says Equius slowly, “if the mood strikes me.”

“Whatever,” mutters Vriska.  “Hey Fussy, are you listening to--oh, no, of course you’re not.  You’re thinking about your  _giiiiirlfriend_.”

“Shouldn’t I be?” asks Kanaya, turning to raise an eyebrow at the other girl.  “You say that as though it’s a bad thing.”

“See, there you go again!  All gross and sappy, it’s disgusting!”

“Oversensitive much?” calls Karkat from up ahead.  “You haven’t heard her  _really_ get going!  Let me tell you, if she isn’t talking about Rose Lalonde’s searing wit and perfect fucking purple eyes, you haven’t--”

“Karkat!” yelps Kanaya, clutching her bag of useful things to her chest.  “I really don’t think--”

“It’s okay, Kan,” says Eridan, turning on his heel to walk backwards.  “We know it’s just ‘cause you’re frustrated at not gettin’ to see her for a  _whole week_.”

“ _Eridan_!”

“Just sayin’!”

“I--well--maybe so, but for goodness sake, could you avoid mentioning it to her when we get there?”

“Tell her yourself,” says Sollux, pointing ahead.  All eyes turn ahead.

They’ve cleared the woods to find themselves standing in the parking lot--empty now, its asphalt cracked, the lines of the parking spaces worn away.  There’s no light on inside the lodge; it’s been empty and out of business for almost a year now, much to the dismay of people like Equius’s parents.  Beyond it, the green planes of the erstwhile golf course stretch away towards the distant edge of the woods.  The lawn no longer bears any resemblance to the felt-smooth property of Scratch’s days; the grass is overgrown and weeds and wildflowers have begun to reclaim their rightful place in the ecosystem.  Soon they’ll fall to the chill, but for today at least the golden heads of dandelions are bobbing in patches near the trees and around the edges of the parking lot.

And far out in the field, with chairs and blankets already set out, nine people are waving--one of them with a frisbee still in hand from an interrupted game of catch.  Under a blue sky, on what might be the last warm day of the year, they’ll have a picnic and enjoy not having to worry about the fate of the world.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It's come to my attention that some readers are confused about the ninth person mentioned in that last paragraph (outside of the alphas and betas). It's Dad Egbert!


End file.
